winter blues

I have decided that I miss winter. I never thought I would say it, but I do. I always thought that so long as I could be comfortable-- not too hot and not too cold-- that I would be fine year round, year in (and year out!).
I was wrong. As I sit here, in what is "fall" in The land of the great white cloud, I find myself, for the umpteenth time, wishing it were winter. That I could be cosily sitting at home all bundled aware of the cold outside.
I have thus decided that I could never live anywhere that did not have defined seasons. As such, if global warming continues as predicted, I think I will find myself on the moon. Seasons are wonderful things.
Summer = picnics and walks by the canal
Fall = the smell of fallen leaves, vests and crisp air.
winter = toboganning in the backyard until dark, looking up at the kitchen window, at the warmth coming from the house, and consuming* soup
Spring = getting excited by the buds blooming on the tree on Pevril,

If I were to live in a permanent one season doom, would these memories and smells disappear for good?





* Does one eat or drink soup? Slurp? Consume? ingest? guzzle? down? Sip?