And the cause is hanging like beautiful, thick locks of tawny tendrils outside of our windows.
It's the oak pollen.
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.