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DOUG FORD: Living in a pollen-nation

Don’t be surprised if you see bees and butterflies hovering around me for the foreseeable future.

I already feel dutifully pollinated, what with the heavy pollen count the area has experienced this year.

Cutting the grass has been an adventure thus far, and I’ve begun to resemble Randy from “A Christmas Story.”

You know, “extended deep sea diving,” and “a tick ready to pop.”

Literally…

It takes thoughtful preparation to protect oneself from the elements, including wide brimmed straw hat, dust mask, goggles, sunscreen, insect repellent and long pants to keep the deer flies, ticks and other pesky critters from grabbing hold.

Sometimes, I think an application of Armor All may do the trick, but you get the drift.

No time to look fashionable, as if it matters to a 58-year-old man whose salad days are pretty much behind him.

Despite protection, I still manage to breathe in significant amounts of pollen, and significant amounts still manage to glaze my eyes.

Waking up the next morning following my weekly ritual, it takes toothpicks to keep my eyes open, much like the “rehabilitation” doled out to the main character in Stanley Kubrick’s “A Clockwork Orange,” where veteran juvenile delinquent Alex DeLarge is subjected to violent images for hours on end in an effort toward reforming him.

One item on my bucket list is to have enough money to purchase one of those robot lawn mowers I see on home and garden television shows.

I know, mowing the lawn can be good exercise, as my 90-something neighbor still proves, but he has his lawn segmented into three or four sections he cuts one at a time.

My neighbor on the other side has a lawn service appear on a bi-weekly basis, armed to the teeth with zero-turn mowers that plow through dense grass at a prodigious clip in mere minutes.

Blink, if you can, and they’re gone.

Caught in-between is yours truly equipped with a relatively large riding mower I affectionately refer to as “Big Red.”

Following faithfully behind is my faithful companion known as “Birdie the Blue Jay,” ever vigilant for grubs and insects stirred up as the grass is cut.

A 20-minute jaunt with the push mower, and this chore is complete for another week or two. 

Or at least until the next rainfall, and it’s like Yogi Berra said, “Déjà vu all over again.”