Note to Self: They Are Called Samaras and I Hate Them

Every spring, I am shocked by the amount of maple tree helicopter whiriligig things that accumulate in my backyard and on my porch and, consequently, in my home-- either I track them in on my shoes or they slip in because we keep the sliding glass door open most of the time (we have a magnetic screen, which keeps the bugs out and allows the dog free reign of the porch and yard) and every year I am also shocked that there is a technical name for these whirligig helicopter thingies: samaras-- but I guess they eventually disappear-- where the fuck do they go?-- and I eventually forget the name for them . . . until spring inevitably returns.

Monday is the Day You Forget Shit

I keep a big push-broom in my car so that before tennis matches, I can sweep water and/or tree catkins (green fuzzy pollen shit) and samaras (helicopters) off the court-- I had to sweep quite a bit of tree debris today and then I put the broom in the corner and promptly forgot about it-- but one of the friendly adults who always plays on the courts once the match is finished reminded me to take the broom home and I thanked him for the reminder, and then in the midst of cleaning up all the other tennis equipment, I forgot the broom and I had to drive back to the park-- and then when I got home for the second time I noticed that my son Alex's glasses had arrived -- and his dorm is back in that direction but still, I'm not driving out there again.

Spring Means Extra Samaras

I finished my cinderblock planter/bar, and my wife added some plants, but our yard is being overwhelmed right now by a bumper crop of those maple tree samara helicopter whirligigs . . . do those things fall in such abundance every year?