One of the things that people living in the northern part of the U.S. like is the change of seasons. And certainly, the fall foliage display here in New England is a highlight of the year's weather that always takes one's breath away, no matter how many times it's experienced. And I would miss that difference between winter and spring, between spring and fall, and the crispness of a fall morning.
And while I admit that living in a southern location where it's warm all the time would be somewhat attractive, it would also be somewhat boring. Having said all that, I still have to say that I hate winter. By mid-December here in Connecticut, the leaves are off the trees, the lawns have turned to a dull shade of greenish-brown, and the skies are almost always gray. Sure, there are some crisp, sunny days thrown in here and there, but they seem to just tease you for a day or two before the relentless gray comes back again. And once the ground is covered with snow, even that little bit of ratty green disappears, not to be seen again until late March. And of course, there's no baseball.
Perhaps I'm just becoming older and more curmudgeonly. I have to admit that it's a distinct possibility.
