Overcast

I have not been looking forward to the spring and summer. I got quite attached to winter. The cold, the clouds, the snow, the layers and layers of clothes, the early evenings. I didn't want to give that up. Everyone was talking about how sick they were of winter, but I was resentful that spring and summer had to show up. But today the weather was cordial, the sky Crayola blue, the leaves green--and I decided that perhaps spring and summer wouldn't be so bad. I remembered why I like those seasons.

I guess none of this is too surprising. I'm usually drawn to gloomier weather (which really doesn't seem "gloomy" to me at all, but actually quite lovely). The top two places I want to go (as far as geography, not as in family) are Wales and Alaska.

Growing up in the Northwest means lots of rain about nine months out of the year. I've known quite a few people that find all that "moisture" (thank you, Utah colloquialisms) to be depressing. But if you grew up with it, or were born with it (I was born in California, but I don't claim it), you're used to it. You like it, even. The same could probably be said for the Sahara Desert. Maybe.