Ah, the wonders of modern travel. Strolling on a sun-drenched beach one day and trudging through an icy fog the next. No roseate spoonbills to brighten our morning, just the bulky form of a red-tailed hawk, hunched on a roadside limb. No noisy chatter from those carefree gulls and terns, just the raucous, indignant calls of our jays and crows.
Many humans, true to our tropical heritage, would love to spend their lives in the balmy climate of South Florida. But some of us, including most naturalists, I suspect, favor life in the Temperate Zone, with its broad seasonal fluctuation; variety, as they say, is the spice of life and those of us at middle latitudes surely experience a great deal of variety (annual if not weekly). While nature has her cycle in the Subtropics as well, her patterns are more dramatic in northern climes; besides, those of us who endure the hardships of winter are more likely to appreciate the steady, if not even, advance of spring.
So, while our splendid respite was all too short, I welcome our return to winter, with its raw, somber days and clear, frigid nights. What we really need is a good snowstorm, an event often envied by those from the land of perpetual summer.
