I'm sorry to say that I never look forward to you. I dread the thought of your arrival and, much like my mother, I start silently dreading you right around the Fourth of July. No matter how much I don't want you to show up, though, you ALWAYS manage to show up. And WAY earlier than I would like, I might add.
Now it feels like you have been here FORever. Much like a guest who overstays their welcome, you are hanging around. I know there are people that do like you. Please go visit them. They live in places where you are accepted, where you are welcomed with open arms. Go there. Stay there. Let them enjoy you.
I am so tired of you, winter. With your snow and your cold rain and your wind and your short days, I am tired of you. With your long sleeves and sweaters and hats and coats and chapstick and dry skin, I am tired of you. With your shoveling and scraping and salting, I am tired of you. Go away. Take the groundhog with you.
Spring is waiting to visit me and with spring, it's warmer cousin, Summer. I love Spring and I love Summer even more. I am waiting for them with glee. They can't come soon enough.
Begone with you, Winter. Begone.
ps. miss raven would like me to add that she also does not like you and wishes you would leave posthaste.