Autumn isn't mine.
The damned leaves are already turning. Whole branches have blushed red or are cowering yellow. When a stiff wind blows, a few premature demisers make their final dive into the pond. And it's bloody cold already.
That means winter's coming, with its short, gray days and its icy rain. The rare bit of snow we get here will look pretty dusting the trees, granted - but only so long as I don't have to drive in it. People in this city lose their minds when there's a snowflake or two on the road.
And summer's nice, but some days I feel like I've been turning on a rotisserie spit. The days are insufferably long - for a nocturne like me, having only a few hours of night is depressing.
Give me spring, damn it.
I love spring. I love that special shade of green you get with young, vigorous leaves popping out everywhere. Sunlight has an altogether different quality beaming down through newly-verdant trees. All those flowers blooming, all the gorgeous smells, the sensation of sudden life after a dead season - it's fantastic. Spring invigorates me. Spring makes me feel all bubbly inside, and gets me outside to play.
I'm already looking forward to it. But I know a few of you are probably fanatics for fall, wistful for winter, or suckers for summer. Make your best case in comments.