Shall I start at the beginning?

Is that what God thought when he designed the seasons? Nobody presses the start button for winter but somehow it creeps upon us like a bad cough or an untidiness that we never managed to get a handle on. Where does it come from?

It’s not all bad, winter is crisp, sharp, shining. Cold. Some love it, some hate it. Winter will always be cold. Would we call it something else if winter turned warm? For now, winter means ice.

Snow hides passage ways and hidden burrows. Years of memories and treasure buried under the piles of snow. One red corner flutters out from beneath the snow. The corner of a scarf. Don’t show me that scarf. I can’t face the thought. The memories that linger overwhelm me. Hide it, hide it. Don’t show me the red scarf, let the past lie. Winter comes again, yet I can still smell the last one.

Spring equals pink blossom. How romantic. She smiled as he pulled out the ring. Twee, I know but spring is just that. It was never meant to be second best. Spring was always the optimum season. In her royal blue dolly shoes Margarette lightly stepped along the edge. Her pale pink, pleated skirt slightly dusted the edge of the wall. She had prepared for this. She had planned it to the finest detail. The gentle sunshine kissed her wide smile as he snapped the picture. She was a stunner.

Autumn. What is it the name of? A girl? No. Autumn is a feeling in the air when September is coming and you’re dreading the new start. The day the car won’t start, you’ve got that early meeting and the dog is sick. Where is the damned lighter? Get her a cigarette. Chaos, that’s what Autumn is. Paper flying, children whining, pumpkin’s pining. Casserole was never a favourite, but in Autumn it’s a staple. Thanks Mom.

A large expanse of space ahead of us, seemingly endless days to fill with pleasure. Travels and journeys from here to the sea and from the sea to the next sea. There’s no stopping us in Summer, it seems that whatever happens, it will be fun. Some like it hot. I for one, do not.