Yes, I know there are worse things in nature to complain about. But for me - in our quiet, secluded little street in northern Illinois - cottonwood is the curse of springtime. Yes, it's not rats, snakes, poisonous spiders, lava, etc. The sneezing, wheezing, fluffs, and clumps do constitute a rather benign curse. (except for the time I tripped on a big clump of the stuff in the driveway - that could have been lethal!)
Spring is running late this year. We are usually past this point by mid-June. Cottonwood season is when no outdoor painting projects can be done, the air conditioner unit must be cleaned to prevent the outrageous build-up, and the lawn can look more white and glistening than many Christmas mornings. Rain causes the clumps to form and makes clean up a bit easier. But no wind, no storm, however powerful, manages to blow all the stuff off the trees in one big deluge.
Until further notice, I'll be buying double the usual amount of Benadryl when doing my shopping.
Bridget had my car overnight on Saturday and returned it yesterday morning newly washed and pristine. Within about 10 minutes it was cover with chunks (pods?) from the cottonwood. I looked out my window and realized that before leaving for church we would have to pick a bunch of it off the car just to make it presentable. Especially that thing in the center of the windshield that looked like a very large feminine hygiene product. The horror.
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