In just a few days we turn our clocks back one hour. That's after we have confirmed with at least a dozen people that it is, absolutely and definitively, "fall' back and "spring" ahead.

Then we spend the next 5 or so months lamenting the fact that we have turned the clocks back one hour. We bitch and moan about it being dark at 4:30 in the afternoon.  We are a sorry lot.

For some the time change is welcomed. Embraced. Revered. Cocktail hour feels more appropriate when it is dark outside. For others, they can bound out of bed, refreshed and excited by the fact that it is lighter out. Their morning hopping, skipping, jumping routine can take place without the aid of headlights and dayglo vests. Now, isn't that a plus.

I have the same conversation with myself every fall. 

Why am I a northerner? 

I like the sun. I'm no longer a participant in the slathering of iodine/baby oil ritual, I actually apply sunscreen when I am out. But I do like the sun. I do like my skin to have an, oh so faint, golden glow. Delighted that this slight blush of color isn't a hot flash. 

Yeah, sure, there is something nice about the seasons. Leaves turn glorious colors, Central Park looks extraordinary after a snowfall. Sadly, the female body appears to think its going to be hibernating (an evolutionary flaw) and stores fat. 

Until sometime in April. Then the mood lifts. I can photosynthesize. I'm happy.