I’m sitting inside this morning, hoping to give my allergies a chance to subside before tackling some of the many projects awaiting me outside. Some of my earliest memories are of loving springtime in the garden and also of running inside to wash my eyes and blow my nose when the allergies got too bad. It appears I haven’t changed that much. Just imagine how giddy I would get in the spring if I could breathe right and spend the whole day in the flowers.
Some years I thought I had outgrown this problem. But then I’d realize I was living in a city and working inside at a desk, and when I went to lunch it was in an air-conditioned building surrounded by parking lot. They probably don’t plant the offending foothill natives in the planting beds at those places. So now I’m dealing with it as well as I can and thinking of finding a diving bell I can wear over my head for a couple months. Even so, I love this time of year like everyone else does. The colors and little leaves are irresistible.
I’m alone here often during the day, so I end up singing to myself quite a bit, which definitely came from my mom. Some of the songs that come out are almost embarrassing, but have clearly been stuck in my head for years. They make me think I couldn’t have picked a more appropriate job – or really had no other option in the long run. “Dirt, you made my lunch” as I sweep mud out the garage. “Inch by inch” as I weed or plant seeds. “Why do we need the rain, anyway” despite the fact that noone has complained in a very long time about getting rain in California. They’re not trendy, grown-up songs, but they still make me smile through the sniffles 🙂