The lavender bushes in my front yard are flowering, and so the honeybees satellite above the amethyst stalks in numbers so great their industry is perceptible to drivers speeding down my street. What also is visible is the patina of pollen that any surface wears, especially windshields and the cats’ fur.
I have been waking at 2:10 nearly every morning, if I am not just heading to bed at that hour, to sneeze. I realized this is when the cats, coated with the scents of spring, creep in to sleep. My sneezing fit is convenient; it usually sends me running for a tissue or an allergy tablet. That’s when Glenn climbs into the spot I’ve warmed up for him.
Today I headed to the Co-op to replenish my store of local honey. This delicious golden stickiness is a miracle elixir swirling in my tea, swirling in my spring brain.