I’ve surrounded myself with friends who treat me kindly for forty-eight weeks of the year and then abuse me for four. They were here first, they tell me amidst their relentless attack. Who are you but our guest? I nod in reluctant acceptance of my fate.
There are two times of year that are especially difficult to be a home owner surrounded by the forest. The first wave comes in the spring with pollen, catacombs and maple seed helicopters assaulting you from all sides. It’s pollinating season for the trees. This lasts for about two weeks. The second wave is the autumn return to earth of millions of leaves and acorns, seemingly all contained in my yard. Let’s call that another two weeks (I’m overly generous in my time estimates).
The trees deserve their spring fun, and then earn their winter slumber. Who am I to complain? Shut your mouth and clean out the pool seven times a day like a good homeowner. Why am I whining about the puke yellow pollen coating everything when I knew what I was moving in to? I’m the keeper of the trees, the one who protects them for another generation. Despite the mess.
The funny thing about being a New Englander is waiting all winter for the beautiful weather to arrive and then, just as it does, stay inside because of the pollen and black flies. It’s a waiting game, really, and each will subside over the next week. The trees will soon be settling into their most productive days, and we shall coexist peacefully for the rest of summer.
You can place the timing of this blog by the moment I write about the trees again. Sure enough, it’s springtime again in New England. A time of celebration and massive, ongoing cleanup effort. Oh Joy! Oh Rapture!
The air is thick with tree pollen and it’s raining debris. This is no time to relax poolside with a cool drink, for there’s work to be done. But this too shall pass. And it’s still way better than having no trees.