Because we have four honest-to-God seasons
In much of the hell-hot South, spring and fall are rumors. In Atlanta, these seasons not only exist, the promise of their eventual return makes the long, brutal summers easier to tolerate. Autumn’s canopy of red and yellow is nearly magical. As for spring: That stretch of two weeks in late March/early April when the sky is bright, the breeze light, and the city blooms pink and white ... heaven.