And while it has been a thrilling visual treat to greet this colorful riot of spring, it must be said that most of us are viewing its abundance through red, itchy eyes. Indeed, a yellow fog seems to have enveloped us, and this mighty wallop of pollen is not only evident on cars and windshields, but even the pavement.
Walking, which I have decided is a non-negotiable requirement of the Wu Project list of “best practices”, has been one step forward in the exercise program–but maybe two steps back in terms of contending with hahhhahhhhhhavoc (simulated sneeze) in the allergy department.
It’s easy for me to mark this time of year–my baby child entered the world at this time–and my dear beloved grandmother, Jeah, departed it on that very day some years before. I remember how it seemed like the world itself lay dormant on that frantic ride to the hospital to give birth–and yet, only the next day, when I returned home with a baby boy, red buds and jonquils were dancing in the March wind. In that other March, when I had to bid farewell to my grandmother, a carpet of violets encircled her white frame farmhouse. How we loved picking wild violets in the woods, spring after spring. I carried them with me that lonely day, and left them with her. The next day, it snowed.
The experts who understand pollen say to walk in the evening when possible–and to wash your hair often. This strategy seems to be working–other than itchy eyes, I’ve not had any major misery, and even if I had, it would probably be worth it. I’ve lost the ten pounds that had arrived with my sedentary winter months.
Have I said this before? Yes. Of course. By now perhaps I may have said it all twice–but sometimes the hard lessons must be repeated: it is necessary for me to literally walk the Wu walk. Mr. Wu must walk a kajillion steps a day. Bzzzzz. Bzzzzz. Back and forth from the kitchen to the front door where he welcomes each patron as if expecting them for a dinner party at his home.
When the earth is abloom with such fine things as azaleas and tulips nod at you as you walk along, it’s easy to feel downright cocky about your intentions. You just know that as the spring breeze touches your cheeks that you will be able stand your ground and to keep on keeping on. But our smothering heat and humidity will soon return, and just like the wet and bitter cold of winter, walking will become less of a euphoric experience, and much more of an ordeal.
In the meantime though, I’m going to enjoy every second of beauty, every sweet breath of spring, and every lost pound!