I understand that it gets cold in the winter in the Northeast.  Yes, I know. Not just cold, frigid cold.  'Please don't make me get out of bed today' cold.   And yes, I have to shovel all that the snow, not to mention negotiating those icy streets.  With the hours of sunlight decreasing, I don't hold it against anyone who says winters in the Northeast are depressing. I partially disagree, but I get it.

But hear me out on this one.  This past weekend as I took the free and convenient shuttle from the Savannah Georgia airport to the city proper, I looked out of my oversized window and onto the Georgian turnpike.  As the scenery flew past my field of vision, all I could see was green tree after beautiful green tree, and it disgusted me.

If you want to poop all over our snow encrusted diamond of a winter season, then allow me to briefly enlighten you as to how putrid I find this Kermit-approved flora factory.  Fall in New England is a celebration of difference. A dance party of diversity.  We begin with the deciduous.  The party trees.  These barkers just cant wait to strip off their green pea-coats in favor of an orange and red mini.  If you are lucky enough to bump into a group of these party people, the cumulative effect is one of nature throwing an open-to-the-public rave.  All you have to do is pay the turn-pike toll.

But we don't only invite the teenaged molly-droppers.  There are always the stalwart evergreens, who refuse to participate in this juvenile display of chromatic immaturity.  Their emerald badge mollifying onlookers with the notion that this party does have a few chaperones.

Not to mention the out of towners.  You know, those trees that show up waaaaaay too early to the party, all decked out in their finest yellows and ambers, only to discover that they're the first one's to arrive by 3 hours.  By the time the preverbal dance floor is jumping with rainbow ravers, these clock-watching parent trees have already burned through their weekend energy and turn a crumpled brown as they try to get home before the babysitter needs to be releaved (sic pun dude!).

Altogether, this inclusive party scene becomes a free menagerie of all those colors I can usually only find hiding inside the black hole of hipster skinny jeans and gloomy grey sport-coats.  And this injection of color in my life is meaningful. Because inside me, all seasons are multi-colored; but autumn is the only time that the rest of the world seems to understand that.  And so when I drive by your monochromic warm-weather Pleasantville, instead of mild temperatures and unendingly sunny skies, I see the whitewashing of nuance and imagination.

From Stockbridge to Boston

So fear the glistening icicles of our winters as they stab at tourists with their ever-growing points.  Take shelter from the inhospitable nature of our nature. But don't expect company.  We'll be dancing in the refracted light emanating from those ice-spike prisms hanging off our houses like a surrey with the fringe on top.  Jumping with our children into the pools of color raked into our yards like unopened watercolor sets.  And while we may miss the obvious glory of sunbeams soaking our skin come January, we refuse to sacrifice any part of our technicolor souls for a few more degrees of comfort.


Green trees in Autumn
Make for a happy South.
To me, they're chilling.