I've always assumed that everyone suffers a little from the "grass is always greener" syndrome. Here in these Northeastern United States, I know we do.

I grew up dreaming of tropical lands -- especially when in the middle of a frozen arctic winter. Recently, we've picked up hobbies that embrace the snow (e.g. cross-country skiing) but it's inevitable that you'll go a little stir-crazy come March. Add a baby that's supposed to have limited travels to the mix, and you've guaranteed yourself some cabin fever.

Then there's a day like today. It's approximately 67°F. That's pretty much a rarity in early March around here. But it's always amazing when it happens. People seem friendlier. And it's when a day like today comes along where I wonder if I wouldn't appreciate it if it happened more often.

We talk about the weather a lot in New England^[1]. I'm constantly watching forecasts. So, I wonder what it's like to not think about the weather? To wake up and know it'll be roughly the same as yesterday. Is it boring?

I both love and hate the swing of the seasons.

[1] For instance, I've devoted this entire entry to the weather.