Not visible in this picture are the tracks I made as I walked through.
This would have been far different 45 years ago when we had more pines. Of course, we had less pavement so we might not have noticed anything.
The yellow doesn't much show up on grass and tilled soil.
We lived near a few hundred acres of pine. They were off to the west, separated from the house by about 20 acres that Tink owned and that my daddy tilled.
This time of year, the wind would blow a little, and here would come the yellow fog, rolling, swirling, rendering the white sheets my mother had hung on the clothes line a very pale yellow.
She would mutter something I could never hear, leave the sheets to dry, and then flog them just before she brought them in the house.
They smelled as only sheets dried on the line can smell, and very few now get to know that delightful, memory-inducing odor of maternal love.
To me, the pollen had no effect. I'm not so sure I can say that now.
Location:Westgrove St,Raleigh,United States