I have the distinct feeling that this winter that I am presently seeing outside of my window shall be my last one… for a very long time. And I cannot say that I regret these decisions — they are all for the better. For indeed, I dare say that this will not be my last winter at all, for I have planned to experience another one, though in another time, in another place.
But… what if the winter shall follow me? What if it will change everything, the fact that I will not see it, feel it? It would be a cruel game by winter to do so, even though I suppose nature has the right to be cruel.
These questions are all very interesting, but I should rather look at it from another side: Do I want this to be the last winter (for the sake of simplicity, I will not refer to that one in the distant future as one for now), or do I want winter to follow me? For, even though there are many things to be said about winter, one must add that it is beautiful, it adds perspective to summer. How would I ever be able to fully rejoice in the pleasures of summer without once feeling the cold winds of winter?
I read yesterday that Mongolia had had minus 50 degrees (Celsius), and its vast grasslands covered in meters-thick snow. I wonder what an experience it would be to see a season similar in its depth. I cannot possibly imagine. Not yet. But someday, I will. Or, so at least I hope.