When I was a kid I had horrible allergies, but by the time I reached high school they had miraculously disappeared. No idea why, but for nearly thirty years they were a distant memory.
Until we moved here.
Last Spring, they were back. Of course they were - everything else in life seemed to suck, so why not bring back the allergies too. And now this year, they're back again with a vengeance. For the past month I've been so congested I can hardly breathe.
But there's an upside.
I can't smell a damn thing.
Living in Bakersfield, not being able to smell is more a blessing than a curse.
Of course, there are sacrifices to be made. I can't smell Bakersfield, but then again, I can't smell anything. Including our beautiful roses. The late, previous owner of this house, Josephine, left us some amazing rose gardens. We knew they were there, overgrown, when we bought the house. But it was Winter and they were dormant and nothing could prepare us for the explosion of color that started about a month ago. They are truly a wonder to behold. The boyfriend says they are the most fragrant roses he's ever smelled.
I'll have to take his word for it.
But yesterday, the equation changed. It was the first day of the year the temperature topped 90 degrees, and as I stepped out the door, it hit me like a knitting needle to the nose... Bakersfield. In all it's fermented glory. It's so pungent it cuts through all the congestion and is now the ONLY thing I can smell. I guess I'd better get used to it; it's going to be this way for the next five months.
They say in life you need to stop occasionally and smell the roses, but in Bakersfield, that's just not an option.
