Because it has Christmas and my birthday, because I always prided myself on being northern tough, Canadian tough and girl tough, it was always December for me.
December always felt like a pretty word to me. It’s got so much on March. March. What a drab word.
Although I do actually prefer summer over winter these days, I’d feel bad if I told December it wasn’t my first love anymore and I’d traded it in for July or August.
So I’ll stick with December. I’ll romanticize the crap out of it when it arrives with the snow up to my knees and those icy cold temps.
Sometimes you have to pretend.
bloom.planted.north 
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