Spring has sprung...and brought the Bradford Pears with it.
These trees are the bane of my existence every spring. Why, you ask? But they're so lovely with their cute little white flowers. Well, I'll tell you--
I have four of these suckers on my property and they're all over my neighborhood. I am allergic to them and there's not enough Claritin in the world to combat it. Now my eyes are swollen shut and itching like crazy. My nose is congested. My throat itches. I have a terrible headache. They shed their flowers all over the driveway and make it look like snow. And that's not even the worst of my complaints about the trees. Nuh uh.
They stink like the worst B.O. you could ever imagine.
And not just any B.O. either. No sir. This is a very fish-smelling B.O. Like you'd expect to find at the skankiest whorehouse in the worst part of the most down-trodden city after payday near a marina at three in the morning on the hottest day of the year. It is foul.
Don't let their sweet appearance fool you. These trees are from the very depths of hell. They are Satan's flowering handmaidens. In short, they stank.
Go here to read more about them...if you dare. Just don't ever buy one if you know what's good for your nose.