Winter and her colleagues

I have known Winter and Summer for a very long time, but we have never really been close; more like acquaintances that pass with the seasons.  As a child, I never actually noticed either of them; their overbearing dispositions were of no relevance to my day. But these days, their annual visits leave me wanting the other to arrive, for no other reason than to get rid of the current one. I don’t dislike Winter and Summer per se, I just prefer life when they are not around, as they make me uncomfortable, often cause me to lose sleep, and they hang around for so long that they sap my energy.

My first memory of Summer’s power was a steaming hot day in July of ’79, when I sat in an Indian doctor’s office in Delhi with my mother, while the sikh tried to convince her that he needed to burn a rather unpleasant wart disease off my hand. The last thing I remember was keeling over in the 50 degree heat as we ran from the crazy man’s office after he pulled out a blow torch.

Most days I admire Summer’s brilliance from afar, as I generally can’t bear to be around her for long when she is in her prime. She is very bright and dazzling, but also very schemey, and will not hesitate to burn you when you least expect it. Deep down she’s not a bad season; she just needs to be handled with great care and caution.

Winter at her most intense ain’t no cup of tea either. A lot of people know how to handle her adverse outbursts, but I have always found her to be most untrustworthy and downright frosty for the most part. Every time she rolls into town I find myself despondent and depressed for months on end.  I do everything I can to limit my exposure to her, and if that means travelling to the other side of the world for a while, then so be it. 

I think my key issue with Winter is that I always underestimate her influence, and then when I least expect it she kicks me when I’m down and without layers. Although, when properly equipped, I can neutralise her strategy with a warm fireplace and a cup of hot chocolate.  As with Summer, I often admire Winter’s beauty from afar, but we will never, ever be friends.

Winter and Summer don’t tend to spend much time together; probably because they have conflicting views on important matters like climate and weather, and hibernation and migration. While one of the few similarities between the two is a fondness for the sun, they still disagree over how much power it should wield. The overbearing nature of both Winter and Summer means they both need to be dominant, and will never be able to share the limelight.

In contrast, I adore their playful comrade, Spring. She is warm, dynamic, colourful and cheery; sometimes I think she is so loved by all because she always comes just after Winter departs, so it’s not hard to greet her wholeheartedly. But she blitzes into town, unannounced for the most part, and never stays long enough for me to fully appreciate her.