The Object of My Fall Disaffection: Ragweed

It's the Mahmoud Ahmadinejad of flower pollens on the axis of snivel. With its already fully developed nuclear arsenal and weapons program, it conducts "tests" on me about this time every fall, just in case I might have gotten a bit too big for my britches, during the rest of the year. Or gotten myself in too decent shape during my summer in the West. Whatever delusions I might have going into this heinous season are quickly shattered by my histamine count, whatever that means. Too much, too little, it's all the same to me.

I crumble every year into a snivelling, pathetic sub-specimen humanoid, carrying little wads of Kleenex and Benadryl ( I'm not a pill taker and take only about three of these a year when I'm desperate.) everywhere I go.

Hiking this past weekend has left me singing the ragweed blues.

Just looking at the photo above brings tears to my eyes. Makes me pray for THE FIRST FROST.

That's one of the reasons I'm embarking on a little road trip for the next two weeks. If the first frost won't come to me, then I'm going in search of it! If I can get all packed between wiping my eyes and blowing my nose, I'm heading north later today, and will be reporting on the ragweed count as I go.

I'll be checking in daily and writing some reports, as I flee the Ragweed Belt. Meanwhile, have a good week!