I don't know if it's genetics, being a MacLean McClellan and a whole bunch other stuff from wet dark cold places.
Or growing up in New England in a pine forest.
Or because it's just too meaninglessly easy peasy to love a warm breezy day, but tough work to stick around and discover the incandescent magnificence of a dark winter rain. By the time winter rolls around, I'm exhausted from all the brilliant green and wonderful expanding of the species and colors everywhere and all that bright hot blinding sunlight.
I do know I have always had an abiding affection for these sorts of
quiet calm dark cold days.
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