Each season as I see it


A snowy view from my bedroom window

As the first snowfall of the year delicately drifts to the ground, the fiery leaves stop dancing in the wind and transition to their snow-covered graves.

Winter. Snowflakes, fireplaces, and blankets. A warmth untouched by the other seasons; even summer cannot compare to it. Without coldness, there can’t be heat. Winter may be the harshest of all the seasons, but it has the most comforting aura.

I tend to associate seasons with different objects and media based on nostalgia and aesthetics. Red (Taylor’s Version), although commonly seen as a fall album, has some songs that encompass the feeling of a snowy night. The album was released in November of last year, but by then I’d left the crunchy leaves behind, causing me to relate the new songs to stress-free nights spent in my room. I also attach evermore—by Taylor Swift as well—to winter. Released in December 2020, the nostalgia the album provides is unmatched. More obvious things I relate to winter include Christmas songs and movies. Peppermint mochas and sugar cookie almond milk lattes in festive cups taste like waking up during winter break with no school to lose sleep over or sports to attend.

For a long time, I went as far as to say winter was my favorite season. I had a deep hatred for the suffocating heat and always preferred being too cold over too hot. Now, I have no favorite. Each season brings me joy in its own individual way, and I romanticize them all to avoid a period of time with no overarching theme to keep me sane. Winter has snow, the holidays, winter break, and new beginnings.

For one week I can leave behind the dreary slush of Michigan and bask in the summer sun

Slowly but surely, the cold fades into the serenity of spring. For me, the best part of each spring is spring break. For one week, I can leave behind the dreary slush of Michigan and bask in the summer sun. All it takes is this one preview, this one teaser, to leave me thinking about summer for the rest of spring.

That being said, most of my spring-adjacent music and feelings reflect the upcoming season. Solar Power by Lorde was playing on repeat all last spring to the point where I needed a break from listening to it by the time actual summer arrived. Pastel colors and flower claw clips carry me through the long weeks of March and early April until spring break; then, it ends, and I’m left floating through the rest of the school year.

Then, the anticipation is replaced with the real thing. The grass is greener, the ice cream is colder, and the days are longer. Summer. 

Summer comes just when I need it the most and reminds me that everything will be fine. Early morning skates, Lover by Taylor Swift, swimming pools, sunbathing, beaches, and tan lines serve to calm my existential crises over the repetition within my schedule. The hours upon hours of the same school work every day are discredited by the rare feelings of pure bliss.

Until I’m worn out with that feeling too, and I’m longing for a change all the while dreading the thought of another school year. Before I can sort through my feelings, I’m a week into school and it’s September first, which marks the start of autumn in my mind. 

Crunchy leaves, black converse sneakers, new stationery, Halloween, and as stereotypical as it is, pumpkin spice lattes. Horror movies and fall playlists circle through my mind as the magic around it all dwindles as I’m crushed under the weight of my backpack.

And then, somehow, it’s November first again, and the opening notes of “All I Want for Christmas Is You” are playing. Winter. I change so much in a year, yet it feels like no time has passed at all. I’ve loved every season as it’s come and gone, and I will do the same thing time and time again until my last snowfall.