The place where I live has ten seasons.  Some may beg to differ, but trust me, you can count ‘em: January Thaw, Winter, Mud Season, Rainy Season, Spring, Summer, Growing Season, Fall, Indian Summer, and Stick Season.  Up here in the sparsely populated Northeast Kingdom of Vermont we live by the seasons, their colors, smells, sounds, and constant changes.

January Thaw: Grays and blues.  Muddy ice, or is it icy mud?  Winter: More shades of white and gray than you knew existed.  Stratus clouds overwhelm the horizon.  Bone-chilling winds.  Here and there, a bluebird day.  Mud Season: Mud.  Cold-smelling, deep, brown, and wet.  Rainy season:  Soaking.  Seemingly endless.  Spring: Alas, new life.  Light rain and light greens.  Cold morning fog burns off into warm days.  Summer: Green as far as the eye can see.  Air so heavy and humid it is hard to breath.  Growing Season: Short and variable.  Fall: Crisp and pleasant.  Maple trees on fire in vibrant reds, oranges, yellows.  Macintosh, pumpkins, and sunflowers abound.  Indian Summer: Dry and warm.  Soak in the sun for all its worth.  The smell of the dank earth recycling.  Stick Season: Brown and gray.  Creaky trees.  Vertical lines.

People who live in our parts say if you don’t like the weather, wait an hour and it will change.  Likewise, if you don’t like the season, wait a few weeks and it too, will change.