In less than two weeks, it will be March.

Believe it or not.

This has been one long, hard winter.

But just when we think it will never end, the sun emerges, the snow heaps start to diminish, and we wake up one day and it’s all gone.

The world turns quickly, between seasons.

When we’re inside one, however, it seems interminable.

The dark, frigid days of January and February, particularly if they are sunless, seem to go on forever.

Spring can be annoying, too, with its warm, sunny days that can turn quickly on a dime and become cold and blustery.

And then summer. We love it, but along toward August when the humidity is high and we find ourselves sweltering and switching on fans in every room, we want to show summer the door.

Fall spells relief; a cooling off time before the winter comes once again.

I would not give up the Maine climate for sunny Florida, arid Arizona, or more temperate California, for anything in the world.

How boring it would be to lose the four seasons and thus, the dramatic changes in color, temperature and precipitation.

I believe New Englanders — particularly we Mainers — are a compelling bunch whose character is formed, in part, by our environment.

We are imaginative and resourceful; we work hard and play harder.

Our personalities are as colorful as the seasons.

When I was in my 20s, I lived in Oregon for a year and the people there seemed boring. From my youthful perspective, I attributed their bland personalities, in part, to the fact that they were in a climate whose changes were not nearly as dramatic as ours, and that they lived in a world where everything was very new compared to our old New England architecture and traditions.

I also decided that we New Englanders enjoy honed imaginations from being forced to hibernate indoors for much of the cold season, find our own play and create our own entertainment.

Dramatic changes in weather make us a feisty, fervent, impassioned lot; those who live in warm climates year-round may be content, but they lack spirit.

Crazy as it may sound, I much prefer Mainers to residents of warmer, southern climes, although many of them migrate from here to there, for all or part of the year. It’s those who tough it out here every winter who have my admiration and respect.

Lord knows I may change my mind when my bones start to creak and the frigid February air blowing through the cracks around my windows, which I now regard as healthful ventilation, becomes intolerable.

Visiting a place like Florida or the islands is lovely — and a refreshing break from the harsh Maine winter — but after about a week of playing, it’s awfully good to get back home where life is real.

And where we don’t have to worry about sinkholes, alligators and fire ants.

Amy Calder has been a Morning Sentinel reporter 27 years. Her column appears here Mondays. She may be reached at acalder@centralmaine.com