There is fresh blueberry jam in the fridge. A neighbor made it. Locally jarred sweet pickles, her recipe. Someone complains of the clouds and the third weekend in a row of missing light. She doesn't deal well with this weather, but I tell her she seems fine to me. I doubt that makes anyone better. Me telling them they are.
"Think of Perdido in the spring and summer. The beach. Spending a day in the sand."
"Plus, you can't have the whole year. Some of us love the long nights and the cold air and the quiet that comes with it."
Today I am grateful for the seasons.