After a cold, desolate and hard winter, around February, the snow melts and the temperature skyrockets. Locals and NMU students who have spent a few years in the Upper Peninsula know of this dreaded phenomenon, the breaker of spirits, the great unreal hope—False Spring. Every year, I fall for it.

It is among nature’s lowest blows. It comes when seasonal depression is at an all-time high and tantalizes humanity with a taste of what it’s missing—melted snow, a cool breeze and a bright, warm sun. I often didn’t believe I had seasonal depression, but now I cannot deny it. When that ray of vitamin D hits on a 45-degree day, I felt invigorated. Then we get hit with a record blizzard.

It blew in with a fury—burying parked cars, causing people to slide into ditches and much more. All of it came after a few days of bright sun and warm wind. Now we have the same situation, with another storm predicted to come again.

This should be a lesson to never put your hope in a proven, recurring weather phenomenon, but alas, sometimes it’s just nice to feel the warm sun again. Hope is hard to fight off sometimes, even if common sense lets you know it’s not going to turn out. Even though I fall for False Spring, I don’t mind a modicum of bliss in my ignorance—even if it won’t make spring come faster.

Editor’s Note: The North Wind is committed to offering a free and open public forum of ideas, publishing a wide range of viewpoints to accurately represent the NMU student body. This is a staff column, written by an employee of the North Wind. As such, it expresses the personal opinions of the individual writer, and does not necessarily reflect the position of the North Wind Editorial Board.