I am a chronic optimist - I find it is the most fulfilling way to lead your life. But I have been dying to write this particular blog post for many years... so I beg your forgiveness - in advance - for those who might disagree.

There is a crisp coolness to the air in the nation's Capital these days. The leaves are changing from green to a beautiful autumn mosaic of amber colors. The days are getting shorter and the onset of fall is ever-present as each sunset hangs dimmer until alas the first snow will arrive.

So what's the problem with this Norman Rockwell portrait?

I hate the Seasons.

Seriously. Ever think of why the colors are changing? It's because the plants are DYING. That's not very exciting. I think it would be pretty if flowers bloomed ALL YEAR long. Why must everything drop dead in the cold bitter winter and then come back in the spring when we're all exhausted from frigid temps? It's like Mother Nature decided to apply the Soviet-method of Appreciation - take everything away and replace it with harshness.

In full disclosure, this seasonal anxiety of mine may be brought on by my knowledge that soon I will no longer surf the warm waters of the East Coast - but have to don a thick wetsuit in howling winds to surf with frozen blocks of ice for feet. Two of my fingers suffer from permanent frostbite, so I am an 8-fingered wonder from November to April.

And the other thing - you know what the message of the annual seasons are?

YOU ARE GETTING OLDER.

Ever consider that one?

I actually sympathize with people who claim to love the dead of winter - at least they know what they want - even it seems depressing to me.

I had this conversation with one of my friends at work, Linda, who told me that her kids come visit every year from San Diego and always comment on how beautiful the seasons are here in DC. And I told her: her children need to visit in February more often.

For all who have seen "Being There," one of the most memorable scenes is when "Chauncey Gardiner (Chance the Gardener)" is explaining the seasons to "the Old Man."

"In the garden, growth has its seasons. First comes spring and summer, then you have fall and winter. And then we get spring and summer again."

It is with these simple words that a mundane gardener becomes the likely candidate for President of the United States.

So the seasons are important? Wrong.

In the closing scene of the film, as Chauncey is walking on water over the pond, we hear the voice of the wealthy king maker - "the Old Man" who has passed away - saying "Life is a state of mind."

Want to know what my Farmer's Almanac says this year?

Sunny and 70 degrees - all year long.