Coming up with topics for journal entries are a challenge I’d like to think I’ve won more often than not. On occasion, I look for help. Seeking help from other sources isn’t a shameful practice; only when people are being used does it become a problem.
My decision today was to visit a conversation starter website to simply provide a question for me to answer. This is like an episode of Gordon Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares where he gave the cooks a handful of ingredients and asked them to make a dish. Without further ado, the question is:
“What is your favorite season?”
What is my favorite season? Do I have a favorite season? Are the seasons all that important to me? It’s sophomoric, but it’s still thinking. Thought is always appreciated over spectating. A non-thinking person is merely a vessel for rhetoric.
It just so happens I do have a favorite season. My thoughts on the matter were made known on April 6th of last year with “Winter of the Mind.” I think it’s one of my better pieces. The work is more descriptive of the mental anguish I feel while wading through the snow-bound months.
Fun fact: that flash was written in a Waffle House at 2:30 in the morning while intoxicated people gossiped about me from ten feet off. Drunk bumpkins are quaint. It reminds me of Bill Hicks screaming “well, looks like we got ahselves a readah!”
Spring is coming… someday, and I’ll be ready for it. Even the buds littering the property are given a free pass for the warmth of the wind and color of grass. No amount of lawn mowing will bring me down. I may have to do things I wouldn’t normally do, like sharpen a mower blade, but it’s nothing compared to irritation of putting in storm windows.
The upcoming season is, by far, the most pleasing of palettes: the rich greens, blues, yellows, and reds. It’s all full and succulent. Life just oozes from the tips of leaves and brings forth a supple vivacity I relish in nature. Seasonal areas around here also open up, and people come back from their Winter retreats. Life begins again in Ohio. Everything moves once more.
Everyone is different, and I understand this is a matter of personal taste. That’s to be understood. We can’t all like the same thing, and I wouldn’t want it either. To say it makes for a boring existence is trite, but I’d love for people to have their own preferences. For those Winter fanatics, I hope they enjoy the rest of it. It’s certainly driving me up a wall!
Corvidae in the Fields 
I don’t know if I have a favorite season, but I have a favorite marker. There’s a day, usually sometime in October, when the humidity breaks and the sky opens up with a bottomless blue hue. I always sigh when I see that sky.
It sounds like there should be a name for that. Is there a name for that?
I don’t know. It doesn’t necessarily happen at the beginning of fall.
I would probably agree with you if my pollen allergies weren’t so bad. My favorite season has always been Autumn. When I was younger it was because of the fall foliage, which is quite beautiful in this part of the country, but now it’s the temperatures. That’s one of those things that changes with age.
The pollen in the South is decidedly more prominent. I didn’t have any pollen allergies until I moved to Charlotte.
Spring wins! Hands down! The fig tree comes into its fecundity, dropping plump little purple figs like a Duggar mom. The butterflies and the bees flit about in the flowers. The weather is neither oppressive nor severe. No one in his right mind could argue this! Allergies be damned (and Austin is an allergy capital). On the other hand, I don’t see you in a Waffle House. I see you in that Edward Hopper bar painting, and Bogart is offering you a cigar and a brandy snifter.
I take the late night options I can get around the Fields, kerbey. lol
Bogie wouldn’t be caught dead here. Although I could practice my Peter Lorre impression a bit.
Peter Lorre was ugly, though. And he talked weird.
He wasn’t very comely, no, but the voice was funny.
He’s no Don LaFontaine! Boo-yah! Closure!
*shakes head* kerbey, what are we going to do with you?
My favorite season has always been summer — until recently when I started waking up to the beauty in nature which I feel like is accentuated so in spring and fall. Also because summer was the only season i was without allergies or eczema (winter dry skin!). For certain I am not a winter girl. I have cold extremities and am prone to sadness on cloudy days. I agree with you — season is a very personal preference. But I do think some of our preferences are chemical or genetic. (Thanks for making me crave waffles… now I have to pull out the waffle makers since there isn’t a waffle within 200 miles of where i live.)
Dry skin is a nuisance. I get it every year, and am also prone to losing mental clarity on overcast days. Sorry for the waffle suggestion. I had some this morning, actually. The ones you make are probably of higher quality than what can be found at the House of Waffles.
“What is my favourite season?’
As I think of this question in the context of the life I have lived, I realise it all boils down to the experiences one has had. My favourite seasons therefore link to my high-points.And with this perspective I realise that all seasons remain my favourite! What would you say to that?
Shakti
I would say it fits perfectly into my wish for everyone to enjoy their preferences. This latitude is fantastic. It reminds me of a saying my Algebra teacher had: “there is more than one way around a fence.” I’ve heard some people love the changes in the seasons, and that’s great too. You appreciate the seasons for how they relate to your life. Perfect! As long as people are happy with their thoughts, I can appreciate that.
If I think of the highlights in my life, many Summer memories come to mind. Spring, on the other hand, holds sensory pleasure for me. It’s a fresh start. Rebirth. Lush with life. I enjoy the earthiness of the new plants around me. It’s like waking up from sleep.