Seasonally Appropriate
rebirth, allergy meds, roses, composting and cedar fever
I’ve been in a battle to the death with the pollen (cedar in particular) that fills the spring air in Austin, TX. Allergy medicine has long been a way of life around here, but recently I was out of my normal brand and decided to try a new one. After a walk in the park, Tucker and I stopped into CVS and realized that all allergy medicine is exorbitantly expensive, something we missed because we bought our last enormous bottle at Sam’s Club three years ago. I walked out with a week’s worth of Zyrtec to give it a spin and because of this, I’ve been hyper-aware of my allergies and their cause: spring.
It’s comical to me that all the flowers and all the beauty bring about seasonal, occasionally debilitating sinus issues for me. I wait for spring all year and then it becomes a battle to enjoy it. I love watching the flowers bloom, and revel in their sudden appearance— not there one day, bursting forth into the world the next. Watching community garden plots swell and grow tall, whether with vegetables or with floral displays, is a joy. Seeing Summer roses bloom for the first time, tall and gangly from the past year’s growth, is a small honor. In Texas, we’re also experiencing Spring after what was a truly cruel Winter. For weeks before the blooming happened, we all wondered if it still could after the devastating snowstorm we endured. We held our breaths collectively and hoped while remaining skeptical, and then one day the neighbor’s tree was covered in pink buds and the entire neighborhood stopped by to see it. As Austin blossomed, the city breathed a collective sigh.
This is all one of God’s great mischiefs: Out of the darkness and cold of winter comes something new.
Spring is the rebirth, the chance to start anew. Yearly, we’re shown a cycle of life, and Spring comes just at the beginning. With growth happening all around us, it’s hard not to assess the ways in which we’ve grown ourselves.
The entirety of the past year feels like a death. There have been days where I sit down to write and all I can write about is death, and how almost 3 million people worldwide died, while those of us who had the privilege of not dying watched parts of ourselves perish as well.
And now, collectively, we’re in the Spring of another year while the pandemic still rages on in many ways and in many places. As vaccines distribute, I am hoping we will see a light at the end of a long, dark tunnel.
Sometimes it’s hard to believe this year was real. Nearly daily it feels like the plot of some dystopian novel. So much adaptation filled with so much grief.
A few months ago I sat down and all I could write about was what I was hoping for this year: longer days, getting to hug my friends again, getting a vaccine, change, a house, a garden in the backyard.
And now I have a vaccine, I’m hugging a few friends and I’m planning a garden.
As disorienting as it may be, my Spring is here.
The days are longer, the flowers are blooming, and my Zyrtec is kicking in.
Reading: A Little Devil in America: Notes in Praise of Black Performance by Hanif Abdurraqib
Watching: Seinfeld season 6, and wow there are full episodes that haven’t aged well.
Buying: A copy of Why Fish Don’t Exist by Lulu Miller because it’s out now on paperback and I read a borrowed copy.
Writing: only this newsletter, and morning pages.
Promising: to trust in the alignment that’s shown itself to me.
Coming Up: MINI SESSIONS! If you’re in Austin and you need fresh photos for any occasion, I have a mini-session day coming up on Sunday, April 25th! There are only 3 spots left so if you’d like to get in on the fun, book now!
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