My winter has been nothing like Savanna’s, but the moderate cold and drizzle of California still has me longing for warmer locales. I’m a sun worshipper by birth, and I love the balmy, sultry heat of the tropics. Being a Pisces, I would love to live in Florida where endless waterways and clear open oceans beckon my soul. But alas, hubby says “not a snowball’s chance,” because of the hurricanes. So we’re here in overpopulated California where, contrary to popular songs, it does rain and earthquakes mysteriously rattle us two days in a row at almost precisely the same time each morning.
Though at the same time I can’t deny I love skiing simply for the connection with frosty nature. There’s something ethereal about standing alone on top of a mountain (on the easy run leading back to the lodge where the hot doggers aren’t) listening to the wind whisper mournfully through the treetops and a gentle, pattering symphony of snowmelt dripping off the trees all around me.
Which is your favorite? A romance about cozy, snowbound lovers in front of a crackling fire, or scantily clad hero and heroine dancing under the stars in the warm evening of a sultry, romantic getaway?