“Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky.”
I slept late and had a leisurely morning so I’m behind my time. I even stood on the deck for a bit to watch the dogs and take in the beauty of the day. It is sunny but light rain is predicted for later. It is in the low 60’s but feels warmer.
Pine pollen is covering every bit of my little corner of the world. My blue car is now a yellow green. The deck and even the flowers are covered in pollen. My allergy is making a mess of me. I cough whenever I do anything requiring breathing. My nose needs constant blowing. This is my least favorite time of year.
The town where I grew up had every sort of tree. I remember up the hill from where I lived was a chestnut tree. Sometimes we pelted the chestnuts at each other. They really hurt. An old elm tree with a giant trunk was across the street from my house. It came down in a hurricane, split at the trunk. My father took us outside during the eye of the storm to check out the tree. The rest of the trunk and all the branches were across the road. I climbed through the smaller branches. The other trees I remember were the red maples and the amazing color of their leaves. Those were the leaves we ironed in wax paper to save them at their brightest. We did have a few pine. The white pines were tall and had fluffy needles. I don’t remember their pollen covering surfaces. Maybe, unlike here on the cape, they were few. The oak trees were many, maybe the most of all. The lilac is a bush but grows so tall and full it might just qualify as a baby tree. The houses around my street had tall lilac bushes. The purple flowers smiled divine. My house had a few trees in the side yard, some sort of a fir tree. They were young trees, not every tall. When I drove pass my old house many years later, I was amazed. The trees are now taller than the house.
I have an empty dance card until Tuesday, unless you count a dump run on Sunday. To keep busy, I may have to do a few chores. I swept the downstairs a couple of days ago and ended up with a dust ball bigger than a soccer ball. Today I noticed the dust clumps are back. I feel a bit like Sisyphus but with a broom instead of a rock.
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May 29, 2026 at 1:29 pm
The tree pollen here has been gone since April and I sleep at night since. I call the season “The Golden Days”
I can’t take antihistamines. Benydryl gives me sloth and duh-mentia. The modern ones are like putting 8 ounces of instant coffee in 8 ounces of water and snorting it.
Here’s some prose that’s 1/3 about trees, kinda
***
The Night
Deep, dark, mysterious
The night goes on before.
Dappled on its inky fabric,
Tiny bits of light
Tease of life unknown.
We have such a luxury,
That Day divides our Night.
But out beyond our shores,
There is only the Night.
So as I float and dream,
Upon the blessed waters,
I submit to the Eternal Night.
Its wondrous chasm frees me.
For all I’ve ever been,
Or all will ever be,
There is only this one moment.
Floating free.
In the cryptic chasm of the Night.
The grand oaks teach us patience.
Yet grasp they ever for the day.
And muse in ancient verbs
Abstruse tomes, written by the wind.
But in this magic moment
Enlightened by the unfathomable,
The oaks and wind sing a secret song.
Renewing their fealty to the Night.
And I have my martial music,
That I may march into the infinite.
The Night
May 29, 2026 at 7:24 pm
Beto,
I sort of just cough and blow my nose. I can take most antihistamines, but it is usually only in the mornings I am affected so I suffer through.
I always feel as if I own the night. I am awake until 3 or even later, and mine is the only house with lights. During the summer I sit outside until the first light. I am alone to hear the bird’s greet the day. I have an affinity with the night.