The transition of winter into spring is the hardest seasonal transition for me. It’s no secret that I have learned to appreciate winter or that I truly enjoy the aspects of the season so many view as hardships.

Southern Ohio today is enjoying what I like to call Stage I Fool’s Spring. It looks nice but the air still has a bite.

From where I sit, warm light streams through the window, casting sprays of light ideal for a little black cat’s peaceful sleep. He’s luxuriating in a large sunny spot right now. The sky is blue and birds abound. Pine trees sway in a slight breeze. It looks like a beautiful, warm day.

In reality, it’s 26 degrees at this moment and less hospitable outside than here on the couch. But if you dare to go outside for a lungful of clean air, you might find that early spring bulbs are pushing through the ground. The March Peepers I so enjoy gave their first nightly chorus on Friday. These little frogs are the brave souls who are the traditional harbingers of spring year after year but their February 28 appearance seemed early. 

These things are all lovely. 

But I truly like the snow and cold and, as I muck through my muddy back yard to reach the birdfeeders, I wonder if I have seen my last snowfall for the year. There’s an old wive’s tale there will be three more snows after the forsythia blooms but those snows could be mere flurries. 

The sense that earth is beginning to warm and the days are growing longer makes me feel anxious. After all, what is to come will be miserably hot and humid. Summer in Ohio is just sticky and gross and it drags on for months. Spring here lasts for a short time as summer crowds in a little earlier than it ought to and hangs on later every year.

For those of us who sunburn and who don’t breathe well in humid conditions, this is not a time for celebration. It’s a time for planning to be outside early and late and for indoor time during midday. 

I would never survive life in the south where I know conditions are even worse. Yes, yes. I know I sound weird and pathetic but it’s a true problem that seems to worsen as I age. 

After years of being berated and bullied for my seasonal preferences by people who suffer Winter Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), it turns out I’m neither alone nor an anomaly. 

There is such a thing as Summer SAD. Just like Winter SAD, symptoms include irritability, suicidal thoughts, sadness and insomnia. 

Who knew? 

Little research has been directed to Summer SAD and tips I’ve read for how to cope are more or less useless. Yet, there’s something reassuring about knowing I’m not just a weirdo. 

It’s time to begin brainstorming and making lists of ways to tolerate (and hopefully enjoy) what’s ahead. Do you struggle with symptoms of Summer SAD? I would love to hear about your experiences and tips.