For many people allergic to pollen, spring can be both beautiful and dreadful. But for Ana Maria Cox, experiencing cedar fever in Texas, caused by Ashe juniper trees, has instead been grounding, giving her a sense of place. “[C]edar convinced me to move back home,” Cox writes. “I was a little lost, and when you’re lost, discomfort can orient you in space.” Her essay, part of Texas Highways’ Open Road series, is a lovely read on scent, home, and belonging.
You can fake an accent, buy a pair of cowboy boots, adopt a football team, feign a favorite taco truck, appropriate “y’all,” and complain about Californians—while stepping in front of your own license plate. But the allergic reaction to cedar pollen is both involuntary and impossible to simulate. The only thing up to you is how much you complain.
More picks from Texas Highways
It’s Dead Around Here
“A ghost town enthusiast searches for the essence of these scarcely populated locales.”
Friends in Low Places
“At the buda wiener dog races, big personalities come in small packages.”
Gone in Seven Seconds
“Racing pigeons hightail it home in competitions across the state.”
The Gospel of Change
“Traveling in an RV empowers a seeker to make peace with an ever-evolving world.”
The Outlaw Tradition of Noodling for Catfish
“The secretive, centuries-old outlaw tradition of noodling reaches its peak every summer at a Lake Tawakoni tournament with the kings of catfish.”
Amarillo by Morning
“Revisiting an act of kindness in the high plains.”
