I often dream of living in a place where there are four
seasons. A snow-covered Winter Wonderland. Crocus blossoms heralding the advent
of Spring. Warm Summers, giving way to the Reds and Golds of Autumn.
Reality is different. The four seasons that we have are Hot,
Hotter, Hottest and Wet. Not much variety, unfortunately.
But it is precisely because
we don’t have real seasons that we have an experience uniquely our own. Leaves
turning red on one tree, barren branches on another, new shoots on a third. All
the seasons in one orderly row of trees. The cycle of life.
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