Drift

There was an owl hooting nearby this afternoon, but its hoots were all but lost in the cacophony of jays and crows and various smaller birds. There were breezes, too, rustling the leaves and sending drifts of dogwood blossoms into the air. Most of the petals settled to earth only a few dozen feet from the trees, but a few were caught by thermals and went soaring thirty or forty feet up, then drifted downwind until I lost sight of them among the oaks and pines.

It's dusk now, and I can barely see any of the falling petals, even those that fall near the trees, but they will probably be drifting on the breezes all night long. Within a couple of days the dogwoods will be entirely green, and the lost flowers will have turned brown or gray and been blown away or lodged in corners or under bushes. To me, their vanishing always seems to signal the end of the first phase of spring. Hotter days are ahead, and shorter nights in which to recover from them.

Ah, but it will be worth a bit of heat to be rid of this pine pollen. The sneezing and stuffiness is making my head ache. I need another nap.