We are the house of sneezing wheezers these days. The weeks of monsoon followed by the weird ten days of August-in-April have combined for a serious pollen whammy. Husband and I are popping Allegra like candy; and even though Liam gets allergy shots, he’s itchy-eyed too. Caleb seems to have avoided the worst of it thus far–but being as he’s only five, probably he too is doomed to springtime ambivalence: yeah, yeah, flowers and blooming trees, very pretty, but I CAN’T BREATHE.
Now that I’ve gotten that complaining out of my system, however, I’m going to move on to the glass-half-full part of the post: those same blooming trees that make me want to take off my head, scratch the inside of it, and then return it to my shoulders.
Every year, it seems, the gardeners in Stuyvesant Square seem to outdo themselves with plantings, and the flowering trees there this year are dazzling:
And then there was a whole Their Eyes Were Watching God pear-tree type thing:
And then these, which amuse me to no end:
It’s a redbud tree, although not all redbuds seem to have these little barnacles of blossom along their trunks. Liam and I think it looks like something out of a Miyazaki movie.
I don’t have a garden (although I may try tomatoes this summer, stay tuned), so Stuyvesant Square gives me a little sneezy pleasure in watching the season take hold. It’s hard to be pessimistic walking through blooming apple and cherry trees.
And then, as if blooming trees and early flowers aren’t reason enough to be happy, the SEC announced today that it was charging Goldman Sachs with fraud.
My cup runneth over.