My favorite season is the bite of the wind as it brushes your cheeks. It's the cushioning of a purposeful fall. It's the muted gray skies and the hush of the world. It's the crunch of the frozen fractals that support and keep you from falling in.
My favorite season is the echoes of voices bouncing from the trees, the only sounds to be heard. It's the coze of a warm drink and the crackles and pops of the fireplace.
My favorite season is the temporary loss of visible life until only by my favorite season's death does the world start to breathe once again.