My sister hates winter. She hates the cold. She hates wearing sweaters. When she's cold her lips become numb and she can't talk. Her legs and hands become numb and she can't move. When it's winter, she says, everyone looks the same--like big marshmallows in their bundles of clothes, and where's the fun in that?
Well, I like winter. But then, I'm not too picky. I like the summer, spring, and autumn too. Winter is just different, not better or worse than any of the other seasons. It's not here yet, but we're already starting to feel the nippy air. The days are shorter. The wind blows in through the cracks in our old house, and we're starting to wonder where our scarves and hats are. Do we have boots to wear when the sidewalk is icy?
My sister wants to hibernate all winter--never leave the house or even the warm spot by the radiator. I'm excited about the change in season. I'm enjoying the autumn, with its ups and downs in temperature, the colorful foliage, the coziness of wearing sweaters and putting on socks again after the hot summer. I can still eat my lunch outside, but I have to search for a sunny bench.
I'm looking forward to waking up one morning and seeing snow falling. It will be fun to go to Rockefeller Center and watch ice-skaters. I'll wear mittens and a furry hat. My cheeks will get rosy when I walk briskly to class. Hot chocolate will be my snack of choice. Christmas displays will fill the shop windows. I'll sleep in flannel sheets, with three quilts and maybe an electric blanket too, and I won't want to get out of bed in the morning. I love these things about winter!
But I suppose that come February, when I've grown bored of all my winter clothes, and my boots have holes in the toes, and the skies seem to be gray every day, and there are huge piles of brown slush everywhere, I will have forgotten the charms of winter and will begin daydreaming of fresh spring, with its greenery and sunniness.
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