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And the cause is hanging like beautiful, thick locks of tawny tendrils outside of our windows.
It's the oak pollen.
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Golden, thick, and sticky, it bursts out of its incubation with the enthusiasm of fourth of July fireworks. It's a ticker-tape parade, a flaunting fanfare of fertility. Within days, everything outside is powdered with a coat of yellow. It's not something you can just wipe off the dashboard of the car: it is sticky so that the species can survive... Darwin's own darling.
A heavy spring rain is the only thing that will clear the air... and then only for a short time. The gilded tide lasts a couple of weeks, then subsides. From this, we will gain new acorns and then new oaks. Since I love acorns and trees so much, I have learned to abide this annual rite of flight and the seeds' search for a soft, nurturing landing spot.
And I carry tissues and water with me for those (sniff) unexpected tickles.
I hope you are tickled by something delightful today.
Peace,
Kate