Pine pollen is a funny thing. Since I grew up outside of DC, I grew up with many varieties of pollen, almost all of it green. We would chuckle at the thin layer of dust on our cars, then turn on our windshield wipers and go about our day.
Down here in NC, it’s all pine, all the time. It’s called the “yellow rain” and it covers everything outside in a thick layer of dust. Wipe it all off, and an hour layer, there will be a new layer. When it finally rains, the streets will run thick with yellow steams. Last night James and I emerged from Red Robin at night. The pollen was so thick it looked like fog.
When it’s at its worst — right now — you just don’t go outside. I’m not even allergic to pollen, but I spend my days at the Starbucks drive-thru window sneezing and sneezing. When I’m finally allowed in the rest of the store, I got a headache and started crying from itchy eyes. Inside. People who have gone their entire lives merrily flitting through pollen season suddenly can’t breathe through their noses. Their life force is sapped out of them. They collapse at their registers, looking like they’re on the verge of tears.
Today I decided to splurge and buy a carwash from the gas station. I don’t have windshield wiper fluid, so I’ve been depending on airflow to rid my car of pollen. But I was at the gas station, so I figured, why not? I ate my dinner in my car and watched the pollen drain off my car.
As I drove my car out of the carwash, I heard thunder crack. My car pulled out into thick rain. It was a total waste of $9.