I don’t even know what Winter means anymore

Seriously, my season senses are all higgledy piggledy.  I sent a text message to my Mum on Xmas day to advise that while she and the family were buried under snow, I was at that exact moment wearing shorts and a t shirt and working on my tan.

What sort of monster have I turned into?

Don’t get me wrong, judging by the feedback from the natives it appears that Florida has endured an unseasonably long winter, and only recently have we started to feel the snappy zing of spring in the air.  However it’s hardly been the sort of winter that heralds the dawn of a new ice age: we had a hard frost that claimed the lives of all our beloved chilli peppers in the garden, however it’s not as if I had to eat my own foot to escape some sort of snowy death trap.

Winter in Florida seems to be the brief indrawing of breath that Summer takes before she gets ready to spit out a motherton of hot, ice cream destroying weather.

The Hubby and I are planning our next trip to the UK to coincide with Autumn so that we can have a reminder of what a season really is.  I can’t tell you how much I miss the crunch of frozen leaves underfoot, the misty fog of warm breath on a cold morning, the bittersweet sharpness of sunshine in a blue sky on a crisp Autumn day and watching marshmellows meet their doom in a mug of hot chocolate.

FaceBook has been a ridiculously wonderful source of joy for me as, while friends and loved ones back in the UK post their photos updating me on how cruel and brutal the never-ending Winter is being, all I see is a wintery wonderland of snowmen, snowball fights, gorgeous scarves, gloves, hats and other cold-weather trappings that I no longer have a reason to wear and the pristine perfection of a Britain under a blanket of snow.Buried in snow

I forget how horrible it is to be snowed into your village, how tempers fray when the council-supplied stores of grit run out and you get cut off from the outside world, how slipping and falling onto your bum on an icy path in front of a busy coffee shop remains one of your all time Winter low points, how it sucks to be so cold that you can’t feel the little freezing dewdrop of moisture collecting at the end of your nose, that disgusting feeling of ice water dripping down your neck and how when work is closed due to snow and, after 4-hours when you’ve completed every jigsaw, washed every dish, read every magazine, filled in every crossword and watched every DVD, you are ready to go donkeymentalcrazy.

Two words: roasted chestnuts.  I can’t even remember what these little beauties tasted like, and all I know is that they were one of the things that embodied the Autumn to Winter weather shift.

Honestly I don’t know what I’m complaining about, how many of my family members can boast being able to get a year-round tan?  That’s almost worth the season sacrifice.


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