Here I am – on another work sponsored adventure – with a story to tell. The setting is – you guessed it – central Georgia. Now, this is the third time I have visited the hoppin’ and happenin’ Houston County, but this time will be the most memorable.
I am an Okie, born and raised. Oklahoma is God’s color wheel with our blue skies, orange sunrises, amber grains, green fields, silver tornadoes, and last but not least, red dirt. These are the colors of nature; these are familiar colors. However, on this temporary duty yonder I encountered a new color…yellow.
I woke to a clear, chilled morning. I walk to my borrowed automobile, but there was something different about its exterior color. My silver stallion was now coated with a thick blanket of yellow. And I mean coated. I look around and all the cars are the same. This isn’t red dirt. I don’t know what it is, but it’s everywhere.
On my way to corner filling station, I begin to generate my own glitzy conclusions on how the presence of this yellow mystery arrived. A few of those conclusions included a nuclear power plant explosion or (my default answer for all unknowns) the aliens helped. As I am wiping and rinsing the yellow off the windows of my car, a friendly fella in the next stall strikes up a conversation about the substance.
“The pollen sure is pissy this year, aye?” he says. Pollen. This is pollen?! I have heard of pollen, I know many friends who battle pollen, but I have never actually seen pollen. And this was a lot of pollen. It was everywhere. It coated almost everything.
I responded with “aye, pissy indeed.” Thank you for the solving the mystery, friendly fella.
I gathered photographic evidence of the day I now refer to as “The Morning the Pollen Attacked.” And I’ll leave you with this thought: if the pollen from my car transfers to and then mixes with the pollen of another car, does it make a hybrid?
Pollen. Pollen everywhere.