After reading Amber's comment the other day, it made me realize that I would not want to live somewhere that doesn't have the four seasons that are well defined.

I enjoy the anticipation that each one brings. In February it feels as if winter will never end, but then you see a few shoots of grass peaking through the snow. The snow melts and the trees still look dead, but one day you look out the same window as before and the tree is covered with tiny buds.

The heavenly smell of lilacs lasts oh so briefly. Then comes the wonderful first blackberries of the season. You may only find two on the bush, but it's wonderful to share the second one with your love.

Summer brings swimming and lots of outdoor grilling. Just sitting around an outdoor table with some close friends can remind you how perfect life can be. And that first blast of cold water when you dive into the lake makes you hold your breath with anticipation the whole year.

The days are long, but one day you realize that it's getting darker earlier. There's plenty of time to still enjoy the bountiful summer fruits and vegetables, but you begin to think about crisper days that will soon ward off this ungodly humidity.

Then you see it, that first homemade sign for pumpkins. The days are still warm, but the nights are getting cooler. You contemplate getting out the flannel sheets to snuggle under, but not just yet.

You wait until the weekend before Halloween and go to a pumpkin patch on the coldest and wettest day of autumn so far. After picking out the perfect pumpkin, you slip your freezing fingers underneath your lover's shirt, and it brings back to them the first swim of the season.

Driving home you admire the last of the autumn leaves. Deep dark reds, golden yellows and oranges the color of your pumpkin. Once home you heat up some apple cider and go to find the flannel sheets, while your love starts cutting open the top of the pumpkin and taking out the seeds, making sure to save them so you can roast them later.

The pumpkin sitting outside that welcomed visitor's on Halloween night now has ice crystals on it. You contemplate throwing it out, but leave it instead for any wild animals that may want a snack. And what do you know, tomorrow already is Thanksgiving.

After the feast and lethargic bodies find their way to another place, you give another thanks that you have already finished your Christmas shopping so you won't be out on Black Friday.

A month of gatherings and more food quickly passes by. You welcome January with it's slower pace, and swear this year you'll lose some weight, while trying to keep your sanity. But then you begin to think about February lurking nearby, only to smile because you remember the first shoots of grass you saw last year.