But here in central Texas (and vast other parts of the South), cold looks like this:
Rainy, barren, brown, and 35 degrees F. Blech. You can't see the rain in this picture, but I promise, it's there. I took this on my bike ride yesterday, just a few minutes after it started to rain on me, 10 miles from home.
Rain? Fine. The earth needs it. It gives me an excuse to make tea, splash in puddles, and avoid washing my car.
Cold? Fine. The earth needs it. It gives me an excuse to cuddle up under cozy blankets, make fires, and start planning ski trips.
But 35 degrees and rain in combination are primordially insulting to me. I mean, come on. Just a measly 3 degrees colder, and we could have SNOW! (oh, glorious snow, how I miss the days when you were a part of my life...) Or if it were 10 degrees warmer I wouldn't wish so fervently for death (that's probably a lie, but I'm trying to make a point, here) as I bike to school in the cold cold cold rain. If it's going to be 35 degrees, at least make it a clear day, so that the air is crisp and clear, the sun shines brightly upon my red-tipped ears and nose, and at night the stars seem close and brilliant.
Having so clearly stated my preferences, I would appreciate it if the weather gods would obey, but no. I just checked the forecast, and we've got at least another four days of royally grotesque weather ahead of us before the sun peeps through. The fates taunt me with their cavalier indifference to my climactic preferences. I shall have to do something about this, I think.