It isn’t a deep, abiding, despise-it-with-every-fiber-of-my-being hate. Not yet, at least. But it’s getting there. The older I get, the harder it is for me to get along with Ol’ Man Winter. If I’m being completely honest, I’d like to whip his tail. But I know better than to pick fights that I can’t win, so instead I’m like the cat when the neighbor’s dog comes in the yard: I just sit back and hiss at him. It wasn’t always this way. There was a time when I liked cold.