Yellow Rain

South of Houston the sky turned black. Rain came down in torrents. The traffic slowed. Lightning flashed in brilliant zigzags suspending time until a crack of thunder would snap and then roll into the distance.

As I pulled into Clear Lake, the black receded, and there was no lightning to be seen. Good timing, I thought, but as I was about to open my door, the deluge resumed.

My umbrella would have been no help with this. So I sat for a moment and waited.

And I sat there wondering if this was what the day was going to be, if it would ever let up, trying to remember if I'd ever been pinned down in my prior years here. Eventually the downpour lessened to a light rain.

It was as good as I could hope for, so I got out and made for Building 16.

With my pack held closely to my side, I angled my umbrella against the slanting rain. Shoulders arched. Head facing the ground. Taking care as I stepped thru the water rushing down the street.

Water yes. But it was yellow with powder floating on top. Frothy with it. The oaks pollinated early this year in Houston, just in time for this trip. Just in time for me. I remembered springs from years before when the streets would run yellow, and I knew what was in store for the coming week.

And it is only now, a week later and 200 miles away, that I am beginning to breathe again.

It's probably about time for the Austin oaks, isn't it?

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