Of conifers and cohabitees

I've had a sneaking suspicion for a few weeks that the trees were up to no good again. I couldn't confirm it because the sources I usually go for confirmation were empty of information. Today, though, drinking coffee at the kitchen table and suffering through the newspaper, there was no doubt what my eyes were feeling was not heaviness from being awoken by my son and his girlfriend's late night prowls through the house (followed by two hours of insomnia). Bingo. There it was on the allergy clinic website. The dastardly HIGH 521 pollen count for the cedars that make me miserable for several weeks every late winter and early spring. Added to the compartments of my Monday through Friday plastic box row is yet another tiny white pill. Any more and I will need a dispenser size upgrade.

And, as spring starts to kick in, I've got two young adults nesting in my basement. My son casually left for a few weeks in New York just before Christmas to see about a girl and stayed a few months. He returned with her last week. We're still sorting out this new familial relationship. Mother to two young adults and now landlady to a third in a very tiny house. I'm not sure how this works.

My old chocolate lab girl, Sugar Face (not her real name) is taking it in stride, though. With spring rains and warming temperatures emerge more opportunities for what she loves to do most -- smell.  And the appearance of human Option No. 4 for ear rubs, dropped snack chips, and kitchen can disposals that increase the level of opportunity for canine nose nudges of the lid, is just fine by her.