It's official-I don't miss the seasons.

By Mike Jastrzebski

One of the things I'm often asked since we moved to Florida is, don't you miss the seasons? I can now answer unequivocally–NO!

Since we moved aboard Rough Draft we have had two rules when it came to visiting friends and relatives up north: first – we can't travel from late June until late October because of hurricane season, and second – we don't travel above the Mason-Dixon line from November through March. The exception to both of these rules has always been funerals and weddings.

Unfortunately my mother-in-law, Ila Wermuth, passed away last Sunday so we quickly packed the car and headed for Wisconsin. I want to take a moment and say that Ila was a good mother-in-law–I know this because I had one of the other kind in my first marriage. I'll miss Ila as will everyone who ever knew her.

This brings us to the snow. There's lots and lots of it. It snowed this morning when Mary and I went out for breakfast. Not a hard snow, but I didn't like driving in the stuff when we lived up here and I like it even less now.

I'll admit, It was kind of pretty looking out of the farmhouse window across the open fields–for about five minutes. Then I had to go and start the car. I'd forgotten how irritating it is to hear that rrr-rrr-rrr when the battery fights to turn over the engine.

Before we head home we're going to drive to Minnesota to visit my son, Neil, his wife Stacie, her son, David and my seven-year-old granddaughter, Cianna. I'm looking forward to seeing them all, but damn-it, there's more snow in Minnesota than Wisconsin.

There is one thing I've decided during this trip. Since we only come north for funerals and weddings, and I assume my granddaughter will get married some day, we need to have a talk. You tell me. Is seven years old too young to begin stressing the beauty of a June wedding in Minnesota?

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