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Spring Fatigue: Frühjahrsmüdigkeit
Do you get it too?
My German stepmother-in-law shared this term with me, and it strikes me every March. It’s kind of the opposite of spring fever. The sun is back, but instead of filling me with energy and light; I’m left feeling “blah” as if all of my efforts are for naught and it’s too exhausting to keep trying. Spring in Alaska means snow. Crusty snow. Muddy snow. Break up. There is no guarantee of grass until mid-May. My Mediterranean DNA is in serious protest.
I used to organize a community event that was held every March. In desperation for spring, we would order cherry blossoms and they would come bound up, looking more like nubby pussy willows. So for a week before the event, we would go to great lengths to force them to bloom on the appropriate day.
It rarely worked.
But that’s how I feel about spring — so much sun and so much waiting. We drag out our bikes, but it’s too icy. We’re ready to plant starts, but there’s still too much snow on the ground. Two years ago, there was a blizzard the last week of April. The neighborhood looked like a Hallmark Christmas movie. My kids thought it was great, but I wondered is this ever going to end? It was met with a rainy summer — the kind of summer that makes locals feel cheated and makes outsiders question their decision to move so far north.
