Seasonal Affective Disorder

When the gray sky dome descends upon us in November and doesn't often rise until March or April, I understand there are some people who get depressed, but not me. Nothing makes my blood race more than a cool fall day, with dry dead rustling leaves, wood smoke in the air, and imminent frost. That is because I know winter is coming, and I love winter. I love being wrapped in cashmere, and cooking hearty soups and stews, and baking sweetbreads and cookies. I love Christmas too, along with a cheerful fire on the hearth, hot tea, and feeling all warm and cozy inside.

No, for me, SAD kicks in during our wretched southern summers. I get weary of the same old weather forecast in July of the three H's: hot, hazy, and humid. When I wake in the dim light of a summer morning, and the temperature is already above 80 degrees, I want to pull the covers over my head and never emerge. Invariably, the forecast is for 93 degrees with 90% humidity with a 30% chance of rain, but it never does. I get tired of being hot wearing any clothes at all, much less anything with sleeves, and I feel sticky and itchy the entire day until I sink into a cool bath at night. On my way to work in the morning, the pavement is already radiating heat waves, and I am so tempted to just drive north until I find a New England seaside town where they do not build their houses with air conditioning. Once at work, the difference between the outside temp and the inside air conditioning can vary as much as 25 degrees, so I am alternately sweaty and freezing everywhere I go. Maybe this is why Scotland is my preferred vacation destination: I am thoroughly sick of our relentless summers.

Except this year.

This year after two feet of snow, most of which is still in my yard, I now understand why people from up north take cruises in February and March. If they didn't, they would just stay in bed or drive south until they found people who say things like, "I've never seen snow," and don't build their houses with heat. I now understand why Yankees retire to Florida. I now understand why Summerset created "Garden Path" while experiencing a frigid northern winter. Last month my electric bill was the highest ever, and I don't know how much more I can stand. My skin never feels warm, and I don't want to get up in the morning. It's either snowing or raining, and I don't remember when the temperatures last exceeded 40 degrees.

So bring on daylight savings time and the daffodils and Easter Sunday! Where spring was once dreaded, it is now longed for. I welcome the tulips and St. Patrick's Day and your new barbeque grills. I propose we all go on spring break, together. Bring your sewing machines.