I am not sure exactly what the difference is, but suddenly I am inclined to feel the embrace of spring upon me. Bravely, I have opened the blinds that hide the outside world from me in the bleakness of winter and am most pleased by the quality of the natural light that is once more invading my inner sanctum. I am quite certain that a meteorological type person could scientifically explain the differences between seasonal lights, personally I am obliged to rely on good old-fashioned instinct. Decidedly less well calibrated than a scale but quite adequate for my own illumination.
My decades long practice in this art of divination, suggests, indeed promises, that the climate will improve from here on in for a few months or so. And then, equally reliant upon a hunch, one late September night I will close the window blinds once more, fulfilling their ongoing cycle of existence.
The inner sense that recognizes climatic changes is wholly primal, adjusting mood, outlook, and physicality. A far more effective preparatory tool than any forecasters byline.