I’ve known about Juniper trees since I was a little girl. In Northern California they grew in my South San Jose neighborhood. They had a Christmasy look about them with their little blue berries.
We had them in Oregon and Washington too. Some local residents in Vancouver shaped them with shears to give them a more orderly look. One neighbor, who was also a good friend, removed them and replaced them with roses.
I really didn’t have a strong opinion, one way or another, about Juniper trees — until I moved to Texas. A church friend warned me before moving here that her sister also lived in San Antonio for a time and it was an extreme allergic reaction to Mountain Cedars that drove her to move away. I listened and nodded my head thinking that I was somehow immune from severe allergies as I’ve always considered myself a model of good health.
In May and sometimes October, I would experience the itchy, watery eyes and sneezing associated with pollens in Vancouver, Washington. I could see the orangey residue of the pollens on my windshield and would use the wipers to wipe them away. The symptoms never lasted more than a few days, so it was easy to take a Claritin and tough it out until the symptoms went away.
Currently I am experiencing the wrath of Mountain Cedar Fever, a misnomer, because in my recent research, I have discovered that Mountain Cedar really means Ashe Juniper. I feel extra duped, because in the many walks in my neighborhood, I don’t see the Junipers anywhere; we have almost exclusively oak trees, hackberries and trees I haven’t learned the names of. According to the articles, it doesn’t matter if the Ashe Juniper is in your neighborhood or miles away; the wind will carry it everywhere. Somehow this seems insidious to me — that something that is giving me this much trouble I can’t even see with my eyes.
On the advice of a good friend, I have downloaded a pollen counting app as well as taken homeopathic drops. This is in addition to regular allergy medicine and Alka Seltzer Cold for the symptoms. The frustrating part is that Mountain Cedar Fever zaps all my energy; I spent the entire day yesterday on the couch reading and watching British detective shows. Today I missed church and I hope to have the energy to teach tomorrow. My appetite has taken a little dive, and when I finally felt like eating, I cracked my molar on a tortilla chip. I actually found it kind of funny — “when it rains (pollen,) it pours!”
Humor and writing are two of my best defenses against challenges. Writing in my journals and this blog have been a sort of therapy for many of my struggles. I just don’t want the Mountain Cedar to be another reason for wanting to leave Texas. Maybe this is where a strong and proud Texas attitude might help. The slogan should read: “Don’t Mess with the Texas Mountain Cedar!”
