Winter is cool and hard. He invites you in with a smile and a kiss only to continue on in his sadistic way for months. He is often cruel, and sometimes murderous. Gray and white are his colors; bleak, and still harsh. After him comes spring, and she seems lovely at first, but the warm, beautiful days of her beginning do not last. They are instead replaced with the chilling notes of winter, of which you are so everlastingly tired. Spring opens up a threshold of new hopes only to crush them. (Unknowingly, of course. Spring is never evil in intentions.) Her colors are pink and yellow: exquisite and unstable colors. However lovely she may be, her elegance is fragile, and does not last. Soon she is overtaken by the stifling summer. Summer is jealous of the glamourous spring season, and exacts her revenge by lasting longer and longer each year. Summer's colors are orange and red. Airless and oppressive. She smothers you in heat and humidity, and tries her hardest to avoid blessing you with rain. It just wouldn't be very revengeful, she justifies. So smother she does, despite the pain she inflicts. Thankfully, she is followed at last by her brother, the warm, welcoming fall. Fall is a peace-maker. He begins his days with a gradual lapse of heat, so as not to hurt poor summer's feelings. (After all, she is actually quite good at heart.) Then slowly, slowly, he turns his attentions to the cooling of the weather, and the falling of the leaves. What a gorgeous time fall charges! He is able to change the colors of the leaves (something done in no other season), create his own smells (for what else says fall but the scent of a bonfire or pumpkin pie?), and compromise gracefully. It is no wonder that this fantastic season is the season in which we give thanks.