The seasons were observed more on the calendar than in nature where I grew up; in summer it was green with some rain, in winter all the grass went yellow and it was chilly. Most of the trees were evergreen, so few were bare in winter, which also meant that there were few who got tender new leaves in spring. Sure, there were a a few blossoms around in spring, and there were a few bright leaves in autumn, but nothing too remarkable. And I had never seen snow where I lived.
And then I came to the US and fell in love with the seasons. For the first few years I was mostly in the midwest with the large swings; very hot and humid in the summers, foot upon foot of snow in the winter, stark bare trees that suddenly get a green fuzz at the first hint of spring to explode in a pastel dream of blossoms everywhere, and autumns where entire streets look aflame in hues of red and rust, orange and gold, yellow and blush.
We lived in the Bay area for a year, and found the weather too even, with very little to mark the passing of the seasons.
Now we are living in the Pacific Northwest, where the change of seasons is a little milder than the midwest; the heat is not as high in the summer, the cold is not as severe in winter, and we get a little snow once in a way, but we still have the brightly blossoming spring and the riotous colors of fall. In other words, the perfect combination!
And even though Washington is called the Evergreen state, there are plenty of deciduous trees
around to provide for spectacular autumns.
