After years of living in true four-season places – Ukraine, Chicago, St. Louis, I used to have literal withdrawals from the lack of seasons. Just endless summer felt… wrong!!
So we made it a point to chase snow every winter, partly for the experience and partly so my winter wardrobe wouldn’t feel personally offended by neglect.
I even painted an 11×6-foot piece for my living room, just to reminisce about spring, fall leaves, snow, and everything South Florida refuses to acknowledge as “weather.” (“Anagogic Seasons”- also a poem I penned down because of the emotional effect it had on me 😂)
Fast forward a few years… and plot twist: I’ve fully converted. I fell in love with summer-all-year and now somehow feel cold when it drops below 75° and hot when it goes above 75°.
And today? With the windchill making it feel like below freezing 🥶
SoFlo, I’m done. Wake me up when winter is over.
NotesOfADrMom 