Springtime in the South

The rain has (temporarily) stopped, the wind is picking up, and the pine trees are spewing golf-ball-sized pollen all over everything. My eyes are itchy, my nose is runny, and my oldest son is busy mixing up some sort of concoction to allow him to function in this annual assault on our immune systems. So, for your entertainment, I offer another old/recycled essay.


Springtime in the South


Since we have just observed the vernal equinox, I thought I would update y’all on the progress of Spring in my neck of the woods. Things are progressing nicely. The weeds in the lawn are in full bloom, and growing like, well, weeds. I’ve already cut the lawn twice to keep the little tufts more or less even.

I’m not one of those people who try for Yard of the Month. My idea of a good lawn is 1) cut, 2) green, and 3) it doesn’t cross the driveway between cuttings.

Stuff grows fast down here. About the fastest growing stuff is Kudzu. It is a vine, originally imported from China as a decorative plant. Well, it’s not really decorative. I believe that God is using the stuff as punishment for letting all the Yankees move into Atlanta.

Picture dinner plate sized furry grape leaves that can climb utility poles, and cross roads on the wires. You cannot kill the stuff. Fire has little effect on it. If you cut a leaf off, water drips out of the stem. It is some kind of mutant Ivy-from-Hell that thrives on Roundup. Cutting the stuff just makes it mad, and it grows faster. The stuff can overwhelm an abandoned house in less than a week. One Monday there’s a derelict building, the following Monday it has become a lump in a seething mass of green.
It’s nasty stuff that shelters all sorts of slithering critters, and consumes entire pastures chokes trees, and generally creeps over anything that is not in a high traffic area. It gives a whole new meaning to “the quick and the dead”. You’ve got to keep moving around it or it will choke you.

Another botanical blessing of Spring is the Loblolly Pine. It has needles so long and plentiful that they are raked, baled, and sold as pine straw to be used as mulch. Another springtime feature of these remarkable trees is their pollen. Slightly smaller than bb’s, the pollen is a sure sign that spring has reached Atlanta. It falls from the trees in a yellow fog that coats everything with a gritty layer of stuff that mixes with the dew to form a coating that will adhere to your car at 80 mph. There is so much of it that there will be little pollen drifts in the driveway where the lawn creates a windbreak.

Those of you with hay fever are probably cringing. Not to worry, the stuff falls out of the air like #8 shot. It’s so big that you can actually see the individual grains with the naked eye. The real problem for those with allergies is the 375 other species that release their pollen at the same time. A while back, we had days where the pollen count was over 4600 (not a typo, four thousand six hundred). A pollen count of 120 is considered extremely high. 4600 is ludicrous. My oldest son has tried every allergy remedy known to man, and has come up with a combination that would get you 5-10 at Club Fed if you tried to sell it on the street.

By now, you should be convinced that Spring in the south is actually the outer circle of hell.

Not so. It is the most beautiful time of year. The trees are sprouting little leaves, and the hills are a riot of pastel yellows, reds, greens, and grays. It’s just one man’s opinion, but the views are the best of the year. The forsythia has about bloomed out, the irises are in bloom, and the dogwoods and azaleas are about to pop. Spring is a time when the earth renews itself and a sign from our Creator that we are not forgotten. It’s a living metaphor for resurrection, a promise of better things to come.

For me, for now, that’s plenty.