Winters

Everything was shutting down for winter. The clouds had been getting pretty sparse. They hadn't seen a big cottony cumulus for months as it was, and probably wouldn't again until spring. What was up there now was mostly streaky little things. Leftovers. Remnants. Probably couldn't even make one good cumulus out of what was left. Same with the rain. Summer had seen rain like buckets overturned. Big, thick drops that slapped you on the back of the head, drummed on windshields like fat fingers. The stars, too. So bright and piercing a month ago, but now, power was down by half and the stars were too dim to resolve. They were one milky smear far, far away.

All this was enough to make anyone lose faith in winter. It didn't used to be like this. Winter used to have its own supplies. Winter was okay back then. You could say winter was your favorite season back then and no one would look at your funny. The fluffy snowflakes and clear skies were tops on a lot of people's lists.

That was when the whole thing was managed better. Used to be, twelve months meant twelve months. They worked it. Now, somehow, they can't stretch twelve months worth of stuff for the whole year. You'll even see shortages in fall every once in a while. Leaves stopped changing in fall a couple years ago. Just for a few days and to be honest, not too many people even noticed. But still. It's who they have running things now.

They don't really understand what they're doing. It's just a job to them. They move some air masses around, look at a few temperature and pressure areas, collect a paycheck, and go home. Whole thing's a joke now. Winter used to be a lot of people's honest-to-god legitimate favorite season. Now you'd have to have a hole in your head.