Karin Nelson

One morning after a long, dreary winter, you wake up from sun rays that are sneaking through the blinds to tickle your eye lids, and the sweet scent of flowers drifts in through the open window, and the birds are singing, and the children outside are laughing and screaming their heads off, and the neighbour’s transistor radio is blaring, and the lawn mowers are mowing, and the Harley Davidsons are revving, and then it hits you: you miss winter.