They arrived with the spring winds, whirling, spinning, descending, like a horde of over-ambitious Mary Poppins. As soon as they alighted delicately on the ground, the wind swept them across the pavement, draped them over cars, sprinkled them generously over the deck furniture, and gathered them in the eaves. Yellow sinuous harbingers of headaches, sneezes, congestion. During the night they congregated in mounds- lining the walls and sidewalks- no longer individual nannies of spring, they had become numerous Cousin Its lounging around the perimeter of the house, threatening entrance and engulfment. I briefly considered brooming them up, cramming them into trash bags, and just as swiftly dismissed the idea. Lazy? Yes. Do wish I had summoned the resolve to gather the yellow visitors up and dispense with them? I don’t know. Another 24 hours and nocturnal spring showers have reduced them to soggy masses, as if all the Cousin Its had become hairballs in the drain. I am well aware that I have egregiously mixed my metaphors, but in this crazy new world where people celebrate birthdays as a parade of single occupancy vehicles and host cocktails hour through Zoom, I am counting on leniency and mercy. I am also counting on sunshine and two children to clean up what is left of the Mary Poppins/Cousin Its. I believe the Pin Oaks have finished dropping them.
