Well folks, it's official, I really am allergic to Spring. I love Spring. I love the flowers, the grass, and the beautiful bud-filled trees. I love the color of spring grass, and the way it smells after the first mowing.

The problem is that Spring is a fickle friend. It simply does not love me back. Each year I think that this will be the year I beat the curse, weather the sniffles and march gleefully toward summer with no need for a prednisone shot, antibiotics and/or cartons of Benadryl. WRONG!

While fearing that I am some weak genetic mutation of my much stronger fore bearers, I still love Spring. Maybe next year?