Last night, I talked to a girl named Winter. Based just on the name, she instantly brought to mind the lyrics from Blondie’s “Sunday Girl”: “Cold as ice cream, but still as sweet”. (Actually, she wasn’t cold at all, but she did seem sweet.)

I went to school with a girl named Summer. Actually, her full name was Summertime; I think she had hippie parents. Gorgeous gal.

And I vaguely remember a girl named Autumn from my childhood.

So now, for completeness’ sake, I need to run into a woman named Spring. Or Springtime. Whatever.