Yep. It's starting. Just when I get giddy about seeing the cherry trees blossom I can't see them anymore; my nose itches and my eyes water and I start fantasizing about shoving my hands up my nostrils so I can scratch the prickly caverns of my sinuses back there.
Times like these, I curse our attempt to be Mother Nature's dominant top. I read an article years ago that explained where all these allergies come from and why so many of us (especially in the cities and suburbs) have them compared to say, 60 years ago. I'm sure it's not entirely accurate, what I just told you, or that the article had some arguable points, but the porniness seared itself into my pervy head.
See, some trees are gendered. Some are male and some are female. And way back when, some geniuses figured out that the way to keep our sidewalks and streets free of annoying female clutter like fruit and other tree crotch-droppings -- and therefore easier and cheaper to maintain -- was to plant only male trees.
Problem is -- where female trees drop fruit in our pathways (the audacity!), the male trees are kinder to our cleaning efforts and are considerate enough to spurt their seed into the air. So with the abundance of male, non-fruit-bearing trees lining our boulevards now, we get an overage of spores and pollen and whatever the hell else trees use to breed in the air ...and then we inhale it.
So next time you're wishing you could use a cheese grater to scratch the inside of your head, take a moment to appreciate what you're experiencing:
Mother Nature just came all over your face. Take it all, baby -- oohhh yeah.
