The most wonderful time of the year
When asked about my favorite time of the year, my immediate answer is always summer.
My least favorite is winter.
I hate the cold. My skin gets dry and cracked, the wind blows a chill straight to my bones, and my car is cold on the icy roads.
The snow falls rather beautifully to cover bare trees and brown grass. The sun breaks through, reflecting off the snow, making the day brighter than any summer one.
My family gathers for birthdays and Christmas in the winter. We sit around a table full of good food, at restaurants and at home, talking and laughing.
We shop for the perfect gifts for each other. We text and call more often than we do any other time of year.
Visits home are far more frequent. Days are spent celebrating, baking, cooking, shopping, playing games and watching movies.
My dog lounges by the fire, soaking up all the warmth she can.
Cookies bake in the oven, filling the house with the smell of the holidays. Frosting is spread and sprinkles are added.
My nephew Quinten wears bowties and Santa shirts. He laughs and smiles, big blue eyes bright as he stares up to us.
Maybe winter is the best time of the year after all.