When I think of the seasons I think of reading.
Summer = Several pillows propped up on a bench, lemonade, a fan blowing in the window upstairs and The Magician’s Nephew in my hand. Also crows making noise in the trees.
Fall = A cup of black coffee next to me, warm sunlight pouring in through the window while bright leaves swirl in the wind, a warm sweater and a thick paperback propped on my knees.
Winter = A thick quilt wrapped around me, a mug with a swirl of whip cream melting over a mocha, turning the pages to A Christmas Carol while listening to Christmas music on repeat.
Spring = Spreading a blanket on the lawn, picking a daisy or two absentmindedly while reading an L. M. Montgomery. Feeling the sunshine just beginning to warm, while a light breeze blows all the hair in my face.
Those are the seasons in my mind.