I'm a winter person. I take the beauty of a forest and grass landscape covered in glittering ice over fall anytime. The joyful sound of snow crackling under my feet, people are decorating their homes and gardens, cities and streets look festive, traditional winter markets are opening and people enjoy hot wine and other winter specialties.
December is normally my highlight of the year. Time to be spend with friends and family. Present shopping, meetings with parents on Sundays to light up a new candle on the advent wreath. Bourgeois? If you want to look at it that way, sure. But it's my anchor of calm, binging a lot of stability into the hectic and unknown of the daily struggle. Another year that we made it through.
Unfortunately winter is no more. Snow is gone and an ongoing pandemic is bringing my beloved winter markets and my ability to go skiing to a preemptive hold.
But even without that: I dislike summer: It's burning hot, people can't sleep at night, every little bit of outside labor is double exhausting, sweat is constantly running down my spine.
Summer sucks and people who like it, like something that actively tries to kill them.
