I'm sitting here right now, glancing out of the bedroom window. It's 9pm and almost dark. Perhaps the fact that it's a shitty night in Scotland is adding to early dusk but it's a real pleasure to see.
I'm not gloomy by nature nor a killjoy by any means. I just adore winter and long, dark nights. To be honest, I'm the only one I know that prefers winter to any other season. My favourite bit? When it's dark by 4.30pm. I love the house to be cozy, smelling of homemade soup and in jimjams by 5pm, with a bowl of ham broth and chunky bread on a tray in front of me. Then I enjoy a nights sleep that I know will content my resting soul, no birds nor light to disturb it too soon.
Nights out are more joyous. Especially if it's a cool, calm sky studded with stars. My particular joys are on bonfire night, and the whole of December. Fireworks and fairy lights deem more colour than even the flowers of summer. Againts dark backgrounds they are hypnotically vibrant. Colours feed off the night.
If I'm really lucky there will be snow at some point. Making my own creations from piles of the stuff can see me out in it for hours. To the point of my toes turning blue and numb. But at least there is one more advantage that winter holds over summer. It's ME who dictates how warm I want to be and not mother nature giving me no choice in the matter.