I had to have a small skin cancer removed yesterday. It’s nothing dangerous or life threatening. It’s nothing to worry about, truly. I mention it because as I lay back at the dermatologist’s with my eyes averted, I thought about how we’re almost in winter now, and I am glad. The sky is a stormy gray out, and wind whistles over the chimney. When my husband and I hiked last weekend, the sky was gray, the trees were naked and gray, and the trail was thick with copper brown leaves. We were bundled in hats and gloves, and my cheeks were cold and red.

I was surprised when I traveled from Palma de Mallorca in Spain to Munich in Germany, and of the two, I fell in love with Munich. I connected with the atmosphere, the landscape, the trees. I instantly connected in my soul. It rained almost the whole time we were there. The sky was gray, the puddles were gray. I wore black boots to walk and a black coat with a black furry collar. I could see my breath, and I walked with my hands shoved in my pockets. And I loved it. I loved the moodiness, I loved the brisk air. I loved the cozy shops and the dripping leaves.

I used to think I wanted to live in an eternal summer. As I lay under the knife yesterday to have a skin cancer removed, I was grateful for winter, and for days that aren’t sunny.