Maine is a joy in the summer. But the soul of Maine is more apparent in the winter. – Paul Theroux
I lived in Georgia for the first 44 years of my life. In March the bright green stems of the daffodils would rustle their way through the brown detritus of fall and winter until their blooms burst forth into yellow trumpets that belligerently heralded the message “Spring is here!” I was born in March and daffodils are the month’s flower but it has always been my favorite flower because you cannot look at a daffodil and be gloomy. They delicately sway in the breeze, their petals are soft to the touch and their indescribable fragrance virtual screams cheer. Like shooting stars streaming through space they burn themselves out in a few weeks having done their jobs as a harbinger of Spring. That was in Georgia.
March in Maine is cold, snowy, bleak and depressing. I suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder or SAD, a mood disorder characterized by depression that occurs at the same time every year. Mine gradually starts to sneak up on me in October, lurks in the background through Thanksgiving and Christmas, then pounces on me with fangs and claws fully exposed in January. It tears into my psyche until depression falls upon me like a heavy, wet army blanket. It sucks at my energy until I am a miserable lump that craves light and carbohydrates in equal amounts. The only energy I can muster is to open a pound pack of peanut M&Ms hoping for a sugar high so I can MAYBE pull my body off the sofa where I am binge watching my version of comfort video – British comedies. Usually I just lay there consumed in melancholia until I drag myself to bed in the early morning hours. In other words, I hibernate. Around mid-April I start to have a little stirring of life that I tease out until I burst forth in May like Persephone fleeing gloomy Hades for a few glorious months in the light.
Unfortunately, summers in Maine are short, barely three months. The heavily bundled, androgynous winter zombies that trudge the snowbanked streets are replaced by hordes of pale revelers intent on absorbing every bit of sun they can before winter starts sharpening its talons. You will never find anyone who enjoys summer more than people who live in the frozen north. The sight of fluorescent green leaves sprouting from tree limbs in the Spring can make you giddy with joy. For three months all is right with the world.
All summer I work on our land where we have a camp. I cut brush and limb trees and make beautiful meandering paths through the mixed evergreen and hardwood forest. Dripping in sweat, I dream of snowshoeing and cross-country skiing in the winter months. THIS year I’ll get outside no matter how cold it is. I’ll revel in winter! I’ll fill my lungs with the crisp, clean air of January and I’ll be triumphant in taming the life sucking tentacles of SAD. As I wipe my brow with my sleeve, I know I won’t. Next January will find me surrendering with a whimper to the clutches of depression. I do all I can to fight it. In the early part of winter I use a supplemental light designed for sufferers of SAD, take antidepressants, eat properly and exercise. But little by little, day by day, it wraps around me like weeds in a pond that wrap around my ankles and drag me down into the murky depths. But I know the daffodils will once again rise up like a bevy of avenging knights shouting to me “Arise!”
I choose to live in Maine because it is a way of life that is simpler. It is a place where you can buy vegetables by the side of the road, leaving your money in a box. It is a place of breathtaking beauty, abundant wildlife, culture and art. I am a Mainer now, albeit one with a heavy Southern accent. In a perfect world I would leave Maine right after Christmas and spend the remaining winter months thumbing my nose at the insidious fingers of SAD from a tropical beach, holding something that has a tiny umbrella in it in my hand. From June through December I would absorb the magical wonders of Maine. But for now, I will surf the internet gorging on photos of sandy beaches, turquoise blue water and M&Ms. So from beautiful northern Maine I salute all you who will see the daffodils in March. My lovely beauties, I’ll see you in June.