Winter is a beautiful season. Glittering snow and frost tipped branches, cozy sweaters and firelight, a fresh cleansing palette of blues and whites, bare branches and snowy footpaths, a blissful season of stillness and rest…

And it makes me very very SAD.

I grew up in in the southern Californian desert. And spent a significant part of my life along the gulf coast. When we moved north 11 years ago, we scoped out the real estate market, the culture, the cost of living, the land values, the soil fertility….The last thing on my mind was checking to see if there would be enough sun.

Spoiler: there wasn’t.

And, like a cactus planted in the shade, I struggled.
A LOT.

Being a sensitive sort, I attributed my crying bouts to frustration with the stagnancy of the season, an impatience to start gardening again, or a general lack of “toughness” to endure a cold people have been thriving in for centuries.

I told myself it was only 1 season…I just had to suck it up and make it through.

But, that 1 season, was 5-6 months out of the year…and it was torture.
Like clockwork, from November to almost May we endured brutal cold, snow and ice storms, and winds that blew right through the walls and windows of our century old home. No matter how much we updated or insulated, we spent most winter nights in the 30-40 degree range – IN THE HOUSE!

The shift from the endless summer chores and garden glory days to a Shackleton adventure every year was so drastic. No matter what autumn precautions we took, we were never quite “ready” for it. We added room heaters, blankets in windows and doorways, and wore everything we owned at once, until it felt more like a refugee camp than a home. We were ALWAYS knee deep in a renovation project, out of money, and blindly pushing forward. We couldn’t see another way, so we adapted. We endured. We survived.
And I sunk deeper into despair.

Seven years went by and I began to understand it wasn’t just the cold. Although, I’m very ill-suited to such temperatures, I found that even on the warmer (relatively) winter days I felt heavy and helpless. I could muster the energy to do chores and feed the family, but my heart wasn’t in any of it. Just months and months of auto-pilot. Every year. At first I thought it was the leafless trees, looking so sad and bare for so long…or the frozen fields devoid of color and life that made me feel hopeless. And I’m sure that was part of it.

Sometimes I would muster the courage to hunt for a spark of something lighter than what I felt. And I found it sometimes in tiny icicles catching the morning light, snow falling silently at dusk, or frosted tips of early spring buds. I cherished those moments deeply. They offered a temporary relief from the greyness of the season. Many of the photos in The Winter Wonder Collection came from these willful excursions into the cold – a desperate search for warmth.

But, one dreary day, right before spring thaw, when I wasn’t hunting for anything at all – I found a great treasure. I was watching a youtube episode of Gardener’s World. The host, Monty Don, a British author and master gardener made a surprising admission:
He suffers from SAD.
First of all, whoever is coming up with acronyms these days is hitting below the belt, but that’s another rant for another time.
In case you haven’t heard of it, as I hadn’t – SAD stands for Seasonal Affective Disorder – a form of depression that usually flares during the winter season, particularly in locations beyond the 30th parallels.
WHAT? This is a thing? You can just live somewhere that “doesn’t get enough sun”???
And by somewhere, I mean most of North America, Europe, and Asia!
This is crazy! Why don’t we all live in Mexico??

Well, apparently it only affects between 1-10% of the population – and I just happen to be one of the lucky ones. Awesome. Where’s my sombrero?

After sifting through pages of information about Seasonal Affected Disorder – the symptoms, the causes, the treatments – and brazenly diagnosing myself, I finally got to the obvious heart of the matter: I’m a sunflower.
My body needs sunlight to thrive.
And that’s not always an option, because, apparently, winter.

So, I settled for the next best thing: a “happy light bulb to combat SAD symptoms”. I was shocked to find that despite the viciously condescending tone of their advertising slogan…it actually did help.
So, I basked in the “sunlight” emanating from my art lamp every day for at least an hour and increased the dosage of my Vitamin D supplement – by A LOT – and made it in to spring with new confidence. My husband started joking that I was solar powered – like Superman – and winters were my kryptonite.

But, an interesting pattern emerged – now that I was paying attention.
It wasn’t just winter that made me SAD.
Even midsummer storm events that brought cloudy weather would trigger an instant feeling of heaviness. I would ache, feel angsty or hopeless for as long as the dark clouds endured -sometimes days …and then experience an eerily instant relief when the clouds parted. That first ray of sunshine – I could feel it – even before I could see it. It was rather freaky.

So, maybe I am solar powered. Pretty strange for a redhead, considering our geographical roots stretch way beyond the 30th parallel, but very few things surprise me anymore. Besides, it’s probably just another display of my super sensitivity (a post for another time).

All I know is this girl doesn’t just wanna’ have sun – she needs it!

So…even though we finally replaced the furnace…and finally finished the renovation projects that sealed and insulated the house more efficiently…and finally managed to create a system that secured a bit of comfort during the blustery months…after 11 years of giving it our absolute all…to that life…to that home…to the hope of it being forever…

we left.

And moved as far south as we could go.

Not quite Mexico, but almost.

The decision to move was a unanimous one. There were layers upon layers of reasons why our whole family was eager for a fresh start. We each continue to express again and again how right this move was, how perfect the timing was, and how happy we are that we endured the transition.

But, no one could possibly feel as happy as I do.

I still take extra Vitamin D when the sun hides behind the merciless sheet of haze – even in the middle of July. I still keep my “happy lamp” at my art desk. And I still shudder when I remember the darkest of the dark days – before I understood how to manage my symptoms.
But, we just celebrated a 75 degree Texas New Year …with BBQ parties and fireworks (of course)…we wore short sleeves and drank smoothies…and I didn’t feel sad at all.

It was a beautiful, beautiful thing.

If you’re a sunflower like me -one of the “lucky few” – I feel you. I really really feel you. And I wish I could send some sunshine your way. But, since I can’t, I’d like to suggest you try taking a peek into Vitamin D3 supplements or full-spectrum light bulbs… There’s lots of info out there. Dig in and find what works for you. If you already have a secret weapon that helps you cope, drop it in the comments! Sharing is caring.

I hope you are finding warmth this winter in your own way.