While the Winter time was enjoyable for playing hockey with our siblings, snowball fights, and mom’s overheated cocoa, separate from a perfectly laboring heating system there was no way to keep the chill out of our bones
Growing up as a kid in New The UK, I consistently knew when the seasons were increasing long before the calendar told me. Hints included: the Christmas rock n roll filling our local mall, the flowers and dust sensitivities that followed Spring, the blessed afternoon when our county’s public pool opened indicating college’s end was just around the corner, but however, no season was as noticeable as fall. When fall came around, I saw the trees turn a rainbow of overheated colors, the temperature drop, and our overprotective mother tying whatever scarf both of us had from last Winter time that wasn’t torn or covered in mud. The smell of pumpkin seeds and peach pie filled every American household and picking the costume that was both creative and practical became a game between the neighborhood kids. Another tell-tale sign of the Autumn season is the big AC/heating truck I saw parked in front of our house every November. My dad, being the cautious guy he is, consistently made sure our heating system was in spic-spec shape before the severe Winter time of the north came around. While the Winter time was enjoyable for playing hockey with our siblings, snowball fights, and mom’s overheated cocoa, separate from a perfectly laboring heating system there was no way to keep the chill out of our bones. There are somethings even a log fireplace can’t fix. So, like clockwork I’d see the guy clad in a jumpsuit and a tool belt crawling around in the vents of our creaky old house making sure that this Winter time would be a overheated a single.
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