Praise then darkness, and creation unfinished

When I was growing up, my parents listened to the radio in part for the weather forecast, and one of the local stations would sometimes say that the upcoming day was going to be "one of the ten best days of the year," assuming that everyone enjoyed the same kind of weather. I don't remember whether they would have preferred yesterday's high of 75 or today's forecast high of 80--but their "ten best days" wouldn't be the ones that appealed most to my friend who likes it to be 85-90 and partly cloudy, or someone for whom anything over 70 is uncomfortable.

I didn't think about that then, because I liked the same kind of weather that the forecaster wanted to tell people about so we'd go outside on those especially nice days.