While Texas drowns and another hurricane barrels toward the East Coast, wildfire smoke is filling Seattle’s sky, filtering the sun to a dim orange circle. We’ve had the driest summer on record, barely a drop of rain since mid-June. Heat and drought have rendered all the grass brown and the plants desiccated. Leaves are shriveling up and falling off trees. The “evergreen” Northwest looks not entirely unlike Mordor.
This is all wrong. By now we should have our first rains, cleaner air, a washing away of the summer dust. Instead we’re the Fire Nation and I hate it.
So, the time is ripe for a reposting, with a few edits, of something I wrote long ago on being one of those rare people who really, truly doesn’t like summer weather and really, truly does love rain, moss, ferns, clouds, and coolness. Here you go.
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When I moved to the Sacramento area from my native Pacific Northwest in August of 2000 for a three-year grad school stint, the constant sunshine and 80-to-100-degree temperatures were at first a novelty. Then they began to make me bored. Then unhappy. Then borderline psychotic. I tried to believe it was the natural adjustment to an 800-mile move. I thought maybe I just needed something more productive to do with my days.
Then one day it rained--unexpectedly, and for that region totally unheard-of in August. All my tension relaxed. The air was clean, cool, and sweet. I could step outside, take a deep breath, and smile. Of course, it was August, so that only lasted a few days. The sun returned. The drought and 100-degree temperatures came back. Everything was yellow and brown and sky-blue for three months, like a photo of the African savannah, even into October. I plummeted into deeper unhappiness.
October is supposed to be the cool month, the month that is definitely no longer summer. In Seattle, October is when the battering rains howl in from the sea and knock trees down--if that hadn't already happened in September. In Cali, all remained warm and bright, the Beach Boys’ "endless summer." It was not so groovy after all. But the weather couldn't really account for my bad mood, could it?
Finally the rain returned in November, a true autumn rain this time: soaking, dripping, chilly, misty. The scent of wet leaves and chimney smoke rolled down the streets. Pollen and dust swirled away down the gutters. The wet pavement reflected lights at night. My mood soared.
I could no longer rule it a coincidence. After finishing grad school, I hightailed it back to Seattle as soon as possible.
Everyone's heard of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), which renders its sufferers depressed in the winter months due to a deficiency of happy-making neurochemicals normally triggered by sunlight exposure. But when I suggest I might have Reverse SAD, I garner little sympathy or comprehension. Who could possibly hate summer and sunshine? What's wrong with me?
Some doctors do acknowledge "summer depression," a condition that can cause irritability, insomnia, anxiety, and decreased appetite, but researchers estimate it's only about a fifth as common as regular SAD or winter depression. What causes summer depression is less clear. Too much heat? Too much light?
Both, I propose; along with other factors. For example:
- Sun exposure can cause wrinkles and cancer. On hot, clear days I have to slather sunscreen upon myself, enduring its greasy feel; and slather it also upon my kids, who complain every time. Never heard of rain causing cancer, did you?
- Every summer day without rain, I have to take half an hour to water the garden, or live with beige-colored, dying plants for July and August. I much prefer the rest of the year, when the sky supplies the water cost- and effort-free on my part.
- We sleep less in the summer and feel the ill effects. Up here in the north, the sky starts getting light at four o'clock in the morning in June, causing birds to chirp and making it hard for humans to sleep in. It's also hard to get our kids to go to bed at eight-thirty p.m. when daylight still reigns. In dark, rainy weather our whole family regularly sleeps longer and deeper.
- Glaring sun in your eyes can cause car or bicycle accidents even when you're wearing sunglasses. Cloudy skies make our roads safer--aside from that one first rainy day in late summer, of course, when everyone temporarily forgets how to drive on wet pavement.
- For those of us with school-age kids, they are home all the time in summer, causing a “disrupted schedule” for us all, as this WebMD article on summer depression diplomatically puts it.
- I’m uncomfortable when I’m sweaty for hours at a time. Are there people who actually like being sweaty all day? Or at least don’t mind it? I assume there have to be, but HOW do they not mind it?
- Rainy seasons give me an excuse to stay inside and curl up with a book or a movie or a TV show. And if I do venture out to the park with my umbrella and waterproof boots, I'm likely to have the forest or beach to myself. In summer, I do want to go outside, but there are PEOPLE all over the place out there.
- Did I mention the West is ON FIRE?
The good news--besides the fact that autumn will eventually come--is that I'm not alone. When I asked around, family members and friends have come out of hiding to admit their preference for non-summer weather too. My rain-loving Oregonian mother suggests a few names for people like us:
SLUG: Sunshine Leaves Us Grumpy
SHINE: Sun's Heat Is Not Enabling
GRACE: Give Rain A Chance, Everybody
PUDDLE: Prefer Umbrella Drip-Drop-Like Environment
HAPPY: Have Always Preferred Puddly Yard
I’m ready to be HAPPY instead of summer-SAD, please. Hurry back soon, rainclouds.