A lot of people (and birds) like to go south for the winter.   I often prefer to head north.   My mind begins to view winter differently:  as an opportunity to see sometimes stark, sometimes specular beauty.   Warm clothes, warm hat, warm gloves, warm chair by the fire: “Oh, wouldn’t it be loverly!” as Eliza Doolittle might exclaim. 

Maybe it’s because I come from L.A., where a nearly uniform warm but smoggy haze enveloped the city more or less year round, but I love the dramatic beauty of winter.    Going north reminds me to enjoy winter’s beauty instead of bitterly complaining “when will spring ever come!”