Before I was a
student at Oberlin, the phrase “Spring Fever” meant little to me.
However, once I matriculated the seasons grew more palpable. Perhaps
it was the daily hikes around campus, but something about the air
seemed to penetrate deeper into my skin. I felt especially vulnerable
to the mood swings of Ohioan weather. I dealt with winter by
resigning to it.
On the auspicious
day when the clouds surrendered to sunshine and warmth, I was thrust
out of my hibernation by the delicate savor of flowers and fresh
grass. The sun filled me with a restless energy that invited me to
skip class, sit out on North Quad, and look for four-leaf clovers
with a friend. I partied later into the night and struggled to fall
asleep as the birds chirped in the early morning. Over time, it
became clear to me that many students are stricken with this same
“fever” come spring. A particularly bright-eyed friend became
especially reanimated in spring, proclaiming he was “solar
powered.”
Talk to any Obie
long enough and eventually you will learn the unique way that the
seasonal changes in sunshine and warmth affect them. Their
explanations range from the transformation of the monotonous winter
grey into bright blue skies, longer days, warmer air, and a pleasant
scent of renewal. But is there a more deep-seated biological
rationale for such changes in mood and behavior? Is Spring Fever
merely a social construct or is it an artifact of evolution?
“I would not be
surprised if there was a biological imperative to go out and have fun
in the spring,” muses Zachary Weil, an assistant professor at the
Wexner Medical Center of Ohio State University. Weil, who studies
seasonal changes in behavior and physiology in animals, speculates
that the drive to get vitamin D from sunlight has something to do
with Spring Fever. When the ultraviolet wavelengths in sunlight
strike the skin, they stimulate light-reactive chemicals to
synthesize vitamin D. The increased production of vitamin D in
sunnier months may improve both physical and emotional health.
Overall, the
scientific literature on Spring Fever is sparse. Just as it is
impossible to appreciate light without darkness, scientists find it
useful to study what drags us down in the winter, and to assume that
the alleviation of those factors causes us to bounce back in the
spring.
Melatonin,
affectionately known as the hormone of darkness, is associated with
seasonal changes in mood, behavior, and health. The pineal gland in
the brain modulates the production of melatonin based on light
levels. When light enters the eye, it stimulates neurons that connect
to hypothalamus which tells the pineal gland to stop producing
melatonin. However, if the pineal gland remained in darkness, it
would modulate melatonin cyclically, approximately 10-hours-on,
14-hours-off. According to Weil, the pineal gland can sometimes
“think” it is in darkness during the day.
“We're not aware
of this consciously—because our eyes adjust so quickly—but the
lights inside our offices and homes are orders of magnitude dimmer
than the lights outside.” Sunlight, says Weil, is around 10,000
times brighter than incandescent and fluorescent bulbs. “People in
northern climates that might go to work before the sun comes up and
leave work after the sun goes down may never be exposed to the level
of sunlight that's necessary to turn down our melatonin production.”
Fathom the brain as an ancient machine responding to archaic devices
such as the eyes and ears and it is conceivable that the brain may
interpret this situation as perpetual darkness.
Conversely, once the
days begin to lengthen and people are exposed to more morning
sunlight, the brain produces melatonin for shorter intervals. The
difference in melatonin production in the winter versus the spring is
the predominant rationale for the prevalence of winter depression, or
Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) in northern latitudes. Melatonin's
effect on mood and behavior is complicated, though. Even though
longer periods of melatonin production have been associated with SAD,
melatonin can also be used as a treatment for people suffering from
winter depression. Experimental therapies have shown that depending
on when the dose is given, in conjunction with the patient's natural
sleep-wake cycle, melatonin can actually help regulate the circadian
rhythm and relieve depression. In general, melatonin production that
begins in the evening and stops in the early morning helps most
people combat the winter doldrums, which mimics a springtime daylight
cycle.
For Obies though,
nothing competes with actual sunshine and warm air. Fourth-year
Nicole's* fondest spring memory happened in the last few days of her
first year. Having just pulled three consecutive all-nighters to
finish a paper, she shifted her focus to an attractive classmate. “I
remember running into him at Stevie, [the school dining hall] but even inside Stevie it
smelled like spring.” Emboldened by the triumph of having just
completed her freshman year, she decided to catch up with him later
that night at a party. “I remember walking back home with him, and
I don't know, there was just something in the air.”
Things fizzled out
between Nicole and her spring fling, but her experience remains an
idyllic memory of springtime in Oberlin. “I was totally giddy and
euphoric. It was a very spring collegiate freshman year experience.”
Nicole's experience is one of many similar ones from several students
I interviewed about their experiences of springtime in Oberlin. Some
ancient vestige of biology springs from the increase in vitamin D,
the decrease in melatonin, mixed with end-of-the-year excitement to
foster delight among the students.
*Name has been changed to protect the student's privacy.
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