Published on 12, July, 2020
Anyone else have this?
Where most look forward to ever more daylight, it's around now that I start to miss in advance the clear delineation between day and night. That first evening leaving work and it's still daylight depresses me profoundly in a way I can't quite explain. The aggressive insistence of Spring I suppose.
I'm really going to miss my 4.30 pm twilights, but I suppose if we had our personal favourite seasons (autumn/winter in my case) all year round we'd never appreciate them to the extent we do.
Anyone else understand/have this reversal of the more conventional form of SAD? It's not that I won't get *something* out of the warmer months of flourishing nature, but witnessing Spring's birthpains is like an assault on the senses. Daffodils kind of disgust me - they're so raw, the early shock troops of the season, forced out of the soil into cold harsh misery and screaming in pain. Crocuses too. Like the visual equivalent of being near chopped raw onions or something. Snowdrops at least look more pleasant and delicate, but they're so impertinently 'early' - can we just have winter for now please, thanks? Anyone get this, or am I just sounding insane?
Shardovan said:witnessing Spring's birthpains is like an assault on the senses. Daffodils kind of disgust me - they're so raw, the early shock troops of the season, forced out of the soil into cold harsh misery and screaming in pain.
This might mean nothing at all but your descriptions remind me of the visions I read about that were experienced by users of LSD and also absinthe drinkers.
That’s so funny as I’m teetotal and such a goody two shoes that I’ve never taken non-prescribed drugs. Except for the mildest thing ever, two years ago. With disappointing results. But I can only imagine taking those substances you mention in early Spring would only heighten the visceral horror of it all!
I'm getting flavours of Van Gogh reading this for some reason
They bring me so much joy! But each to their own. I get the heebie jeebies off other plants though.
There’s a line in the Doctor Who story about him where he talks about sunflowers as slightly revolting him but feeling a kind of horrified and fascinated pull towards them as well. I think daffs and crocuses are my equivalent! Except I’d never want to paint them, looking at that horrible too yellow/too green vulgar combo suffering through its few weeks of life is bad enough even in brief glimpses. And they’re on every roundabout and embankment. Unavoidable