In the Spring a young woman's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of setting all the pollinating trees aflame.
Or maybe that's just me.
I obviously love trees. I love looking at them, I love the cool shade they provide, the ever changing kalidescope of their leaves. But every inch of me reacts rather violently to their wanton carnal lusts.
First my throat becomes scratchy and I must suffer a horrible sore throat for a few days. Sneezing become so passe I only notice when my nose ISN'T running. And coughing is the gentle background to the early morning robin's song.
Now I'm not saying that trees breeding is bad, I just wish they'd reserve themselves to a time when I'm locked safely away in my hypoallergenic bubble dome.
But the worst is over (at least for what really knocked and drug me out for a week) and now I have pretty blossoms to enjoy and share: