By Cherimie Crane Weatherford

As our sleeves become shorter, the days longer and the smiles broader, evidence of our favorite season decorates the sweetest of Southern seaside towns. Like someone kicked an ant bed, we scurry about in every direction soaking up all that is sun drenched and soul laden as we turn towards the sun as if to greet a long lost friend. Native or newcomer, tourist or truant, each takes notice of the winning season. The season that brings out the introvert, rallies the recluse and shines on the social butterflies. Our little town takes center stage and brings the house down to an audience in need of brighter days and gentler ways. Before the heat rises to a sultry crisp, the interim offers paradise found, found sweetly underneath a most powerful beast.

Beaufortonians rise out of the shadows as if hibernation was a holiday host. Cursing a climate that danced with temperatures less than 65 degrees and forced seafarers to anchor under blankets and long pants. Understanding well our natural rights of life, liberty and perfect weather, we have ached for the most precious of months. Greeting each day with wonder, hope and a treasure trove of pollen fighting pharmaceuticals at the ready. Just as roses have thorns, Sunday’s have Mondays and chocolate has calories, so Beaufort has pollen.

Coated in a pale yellow haze our cars, our porches, our pets and even our hair serves as an equalizer for our otherwise unblemished domicile. Boston has snow, Vegas has hangovers, Tulsa has traffic and California has fertile fault lines. It would be unkind for Beaufort to be beautifully absent of a worthy adversary and a reminder to be thankful for less yellow days. Therefore the universe sighs at the simple and douses us all with the most unforgiving of glitter. We muddle our way through weeks of a punitive dusting. Porches empty, convertibles don’t convert and simply walking to the mailbox becomes a trek of treacherous torture. After months of summoning warmer days we sit inside staring blankly at the slowly crafted quilt of yellow.

Our skin glistens with the seasons’ first sun, so doth eyes with the season’s signature allergen. Sneezes abound, sniffles serenade and work days turn into a medicated haze. It is a burden we bear as we struggle to earn finer days of boat rides and low tides. We will survive. We will rise from the ashes of prescriptions and potions and reign victorious to claim our prize of sweet summer time in the sunniest of seaside towns. Mother Nature means no harm, just giving us a freckle on an otherwise flawless face reminding us all to increase our intake of gratitude and vitamin sea. Wishing you all a few less sneezes.

<em>Cherimie Crane Weatherford, owner of SugarBelle boutique, Celadon Real Estate Broker and observer of all things momentous and mundane lives on Lady’s Island with her golfing husband, dancing toddler and lounging dogs.</em>