I wish I could say that I love spring. I can appreciate the sense of a season of renewal and growth. I can admire the trees waking up after their long winter rest and welcome the first blooms bringing a splash of color to the landscape. I look forward to lighter layers and brighter colors in my closet. I imagine taking a cleansing breath of cool, sweet air while the sunshine warms my face.
My spring is different. While I can dream of running through a field of daffodils, a more realistic image is of me standing in the field blowing my nose. Pollen is my foe. I am fighting a battle and not winning. My eyes are red and swollen, my nose is raw and stuffy, and my skin is covered in hives. I won’t sneak up on anyone because my raspy mouth breathing will certainly give me away. Yesterday approximately 3034 people (maybe a slight exaggeration) asked if I was crying. The lady at Walgreens took one look at me and suggested I take advantage of their special on Kleenex with soothing lotion.
My hometown is lovely this time of year. I have no date to support this hypothesis but I’d venture to say we have more Bradford Pear trees than people. The town is beautifully decorated with these white blossoms. WHITE BLOSSOMS OF DESPAIR! The trees smell HORRIBLE and make me MISERABLE! I call them armpit trees but I’ve heard others call them fish trees, dirty sock trees, and period trees. (ewww.) The ONLY advantage to being highly allergic to this time of year is that the stink of the Bradford Pear tree is muted by all the snot in my head.
Fortunately this hell only last a couple weeks. I will be able to enjoy spring soon and then I can start bitching about my favorite season, summer. Heat, mosquitos, sunburns…HOORAY!