Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, May 4, 1993 TAG: 9305040011
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: C1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Ed Shamy
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
If only all of nature were so considerate.
We are in high mating season for trees and bushes, flowers, shrubs, grass and weeds.
Equipped with neither arms, legs nor singles bars, plants must rely on the kindness of strangers when it comes time to reproduce. They dispense altogether with the courtship ritual, since they can't dance or go for long walks.
Intead, the plants get right down to business. They make flowers, most of them at this time of year. Inside the flowers of the boy plants are little pollen warehouses.
Stack about 1,700 granules of pollen end to end and they'll stretch all of one inch. But plants don't produce just 1,700 granules. They produce pinchillions of granules.
All of this pollen is wasted unless the boy plants somehow deliver their granules to girl plants, where the girls use it to fertilize their eggs, make seeds and ensure the survival of the species. We do have some things in common, plants and humans.
This is where the birds and the bees come in.
When bees and some birds duck into flowers to sip nectar, they're dusted with pollen granules. Busily tasting nectar all day, these birds and bees are likely at some point to drop those granules in a girl plant's flower. Bingo! When they do, the reproductive act is complete.
Admittedly, this is not a very romantic way to create a family.
Nor is the alternative, preferred by some plants, to shun the birds and the bees and rely instead on the wind.
Playing the odds smartly, these plants produce far more pollen than they need and cast their seeds upon the air currents in search of a downwind mating partner.
A great cloud of yellowish-green talc fills the air, covering everything and everyone in its path with granules of pollen.
You have found this powdery film on your car, so thick you may have to run the windshield wipers before driving off for the day. Wash the car at 2 o'clock, by 4 it's covered again. Pollen is on the porch railing and the park bench, clinging to the windows and sifting in through the screens. It dusts the countertop in the kitchen, and coats the laundry hung out to dry. It films the lenses of your eyeglasses and settles gently on your bicycle seat.
It is ruining the days of car dealers, who strive to keep their outdoor cars clean, and warming the hearts of window washers.
Most cursed of all are the allergy sufferers among us. Easy to recognize, they're the beleaguered souls blowing their noises and rubbing their itching eyes, dreaming of Death Valley or Antarctica.
Last year at this time, it was raining. When it wasn't raining, it was drizzling or pouring, and when it quit, it would just plain rain again.
That weather knocked down much of the pollen.
This year, as we've endured a miniature dry spell, the pollen has fogged our skies, tiny granules cruising the air around us, searching for mates.
Say what you will about human beings. At least we mate in private, without much of a mess.
by CNB