Me? Personally, I like seasons. Not extreme ones, mind you, but gentle indications of movement through the seasons of my life.
Mom hates winter too much to put up with it in exchange for surprises of spring and fall. Her weather report from south Florida is usually something like,
“It’s been the same for such a long time.”
She does not say that with any regret. Weather aside, the comment makes me consider the sameness in my life. In what ways does “same for such a long time” bring nourishment, and in what ways does it bring stagnation?