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If the seasons were all feminine, then Summer would be a mother - verdant and fertile though short-tempered at times, Spring an ebullient young child and winter an old grandma with flowing white hair sometimes grumpy but glorious nonetheless.
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While all my entreaties to mom summer to leave and make way for lady Autumn were met with scorching episodes, I know that if I try to make her overstay, grandma winter might have a rather frigid reaction. Besides she starts getting bored and listless after a while and begins to long for faraway lands. Fickleness of temperament is part of her being.
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