With Every Season Turn, Turn, Turn

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Turn, Turn, Turn.”

Seasons change so quickly! Which one do you most look forward to? Which is your least favorite?

The Byrds – Turn! Turn! Turn!


DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince – Summertime

My Favorite Season is Summer! I Love Heat, Sunshine, Warmth. Must be my African blood. I wish New York’s climate was more like California, Hawaii or Florida. Summer gives me the opportunity to wear dresses and skirts.  I tend to get out more because the weather is good during the summer.  Going to the park, the beach, just being able to soak in the sun’s rays is my ideal dream.  I Love seeing the trees and flowers in bloom, walking through the grass and enjoying nature.

Foggy Misty Morn Central Park
Foggy Misty Morn Central Park

My least favorite season is winter. I HATE cold, ice, snow, & freezing temps. Ugh!!  Housebound. Hibernating (NOT!!)  Traveling in snow and ice is dangerous. Fear of falling and breaking my limbs. Transportation can be iffy and who wants to stand outside in the snow, sleet and/or ice waiting for a bus or train?!  Yuck!!  Having to spend 20 minutes putting on 5 layers of clothing is not sexy!!  Neither is not seeing that black ice hiding under the snow and taking a tumble. Nor is getting unwanted exercise shoveling snow and putting down deicer just so you can get out of the house!  Also cold frozen winter temps are really bad for my arthritis. Painful locked joints are no fun.

So give this hot blooded woman a sunshiny 85 degree day 24/7/365!!



Mother Goose Birthday31 Mother Goose Birthday30 Mother Goose Birthday29 Mother Goose Birthday28 Mother Goose Birthday27 Mother Goose Birthday9 Mother Goose Birthday8 Mother Goose Birthday7

Winter’s harsh breath exhales into the frosty snowy past. Icy Hoarfrost gives way to billowing branches blooming with expectant buds. Whispers of newness of Life encompass Mother Earth urging upwards bursting seeds taking root sending forth shoots of glorious colored petals over willowy leafy verdant pastures beckoning formerly winter bound spirits to break forth into joyous song.

The Voice of Springtime is now heard in the land. I hear the gurgling of the babbling brook and feel a gentle breeze upon my face. Arboreal splendor dances in celebration of incoming upcoming vim, vigor and vitality. Vivaciously laughing at Jack Frost’s feeble attempts to reclaim  yearning terrain.  Cheerful, Joyful Persephone skips, leaps and jumps into her Mother Demeter eager arms.

DeBorah Ann Palmer