Waves of Pollen Mean Spring is in Swing

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Spring has erupted at Three Geese Farm, the trees raining pollen under a nearly constant wind, coating everything outside in yellow powder. Mollie, our white Maltese, has a tinge of yellow from going outside. Washing vehicles is a fool’s errand until the pollen ends. The driveway is filled with drifts of oak clusters, resembling seaweed washed up on a beach.

But the flowers. The Carolina jasmine climbing the black chain-link fence that keeps the dogs confined showers yellow blossoms that decorate the ground. The azaleas are popping out in front and back, now in their fourth season. During the harshest part of winter, when temperatures dropped below 25 degrees, I pulled out a dozen large tarps to stake over them in hopes of keeping them alive. My efforts proved successful, judging from the blossoms.

Our two wisteria plants are just now budding out. All around town Chinese wisteria is popping in color. One especially impressive array is next to a convenience store on Hwy. 259 that I pass several times each day. That wisteria reaches all the way up to the power lines. For whatever reason, this is a good year for that violet beauty.

We planted five bridal wreath bushes just outside the backyard fence that now are all in full white bloom, adding a nice row of color as one looks down to Pancho’s Pond. Speaking of our aged donkey, he is enjoying the fresh crop of Bermuda grass popping up as the winter ryegrass begins to die off. I sure wish we could find him a girlfriend. We are still looking.

The final water oak remaining in the front pasture has returned to life for at least one more year. We lost its two neighbors since moving here in 2021. Water oaks are considered weak with a short lifespan compared to other oaks – 30 to 50 years. I figure this last water oak probably won’t survive much longer, so I’ll enjoy its craggy features from the front-porch rocker as long as possible. The magnolia tree I planted last fall in memory of our dear friend Glenn McCutchen is doing well, as is the Japanese maple nearby, planted a few years earlier. I will never see a grandchild climb those trees, but someday perhaps somebody’s kiddo will get to do so, long after I’m gone.

I was reading on the front porch Sunday afternoon as a stiff wind knocked another branch from the decrepit water oak. Something else to pick up, I thought. I should put tree limb picker-upper on my resumé. That’s when I noticed the American flag on our 30-foot pole. Thanks to the wind, the 5-foot flag has hopelessly wrapped itself around the brass eagle that graces the top of the pole. Seems fitting in these times.

I tried in vain to untangle the flag, even dragging out the pressure washer in hopes of blasting it free. The stream of water fell well short of its target. The flag remained as tangled as this nation. The next afternoon, I again sat in the rocker after work, reading and watching the wind whip the stuck flag around. Suddenly, I looked up and the flag had freed itself from the eagle crown. I doubt our nation will untangle itself as quickly — if ever.

Mowing season has somewhat commenced, at least around the house and in the fenced backyard. I put off mowing the entire five acres or so as long as possible to let the wildflowers go to seed and because, well, once mowing everything starts, it takes six or seven hours out of my life each time.

The butterflies and bumblebees have returned to feast on the plants my Beautiful Mystery Companion purposely bought to attract them. Doing our small part to increase their numbers brings us both immense pleasure.

Spring is always a time of rebirth but also trepidation when you live Behind the Pine Curtain. Summer will soon poke its hot head around the corner, making it miserable though unavoidable to work outside. Until it does, however, I plan to enjoy every pollen-filled minute outside that I can.

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