Spring...is coming.
Some would say, it's already here.
Let the attack begin.
When I say "attack," I'm not meaning anything on a grand scale, nothing involving troops or guns or things that cause major damage. No, the attack is in a micro-level and it involves pollen, sinuses, and diminished tolerances.
It's my semi-annual battle with allergies.
It makes spring not quite as enjoyable as I can be, as it should be.
No--I'm not a "spring person," at least, not as an adult. As a kid, I loved spring. Spring meant it was closer to summer and summer meant going to Lagoon, swimming in the pool, hanging out at the Arcade, riding bikes and skateboard with friends, hiking the hills, going to Idaho for vacation. I'm pretty sure I had seasonal allergies when I was a kid--my siblings can tell stories--but I don't remember those. I remember enjoying spring.
Today, I walked outside to see if the raspberry starts we planted were alive or not. We saw evidence they were, or most of them anyway. I also checked some flowers we planted in the front yard. I snapped a picture of a dead rose. It's interesting...in one small yard in Northern Utah, there are signs of new life and signs of past life. In the coming weeks, we'll see more of the former and less of the latter. Such is life.
Yes, seasonal allergies are kicking my trash right now. I wonder, if I'm able to look back on this time thirty or more years in the future, will I remember disliking spring, or will I not remember it?
Time will tell.
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