More odes to the weather, despite ragweed

October has come and gone, and now we have a new president-elect. But since this column was written before Election Day, you needn't put up with any of my tiresome political commentary, which must be a huge relief since everybody and his brother has an opinion on that sort of thing.

In fact, we'll resume the subject of October, as suggested by Ann Melfi, who recalls her mother singing the first few lines of a lovely poem by Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-85) titled "October's Bright Blue Weather." I looked up the poem and found it sufficiently enticing to print in its entirety — keeping in mind that early November recalls the feel of October. Jackson was an American writer, born in Massachusetts, best known for her novel, "Ramona," which chronicled the mistreatment of American Indians.

O suns and skies and clouds of June,

And flowers of June together,

Ye cannot rival for one hour

October's bright blue weather.

When loud the bumblebee makes haste,

Belated, thriftless vagrant,

And goldenrod is dying fast,

And lanes with grape are fragrant;

When gentians roll their fringes tight

To save them for the morning,

And chestnuts fall from satin burrs

Without a sound of warning;

When on the ground red apples lie

In piles like jewels shining,

And redder still on old stone walls

Are leaves of woodbine twining;

When all the lovely wayside things

Their white-winged seeds are sowing,

And in the fields, still green and fair,

Late aftermaths are growing;

When springs run low, and on the brooks,

In idle golden freighting,

Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush

Of woods, for winter waiting;

When comrades seek sweet country haunts,

By twos and twos together,

And count like misers, hour by hour,

October's bright blue weather.

O suns and skies and flowers of June,

Count all your boasts together,

Love loveth best of all the year

October's bright blue weather.

Melvyn Smith enjoyed the earlier column on October, but chides me gently for not mentioning pumpkins even once. "Furthermore," he says, "you downplay the allergic reactions to October's ragweed, and that's nothing to sneeze at. Or is it?"

I would say it certainly is. At least this year, with one of the worst ragweed/hay fever seasons in quite some time. Maybe it has something to do with that drought-busting rain we had a couple of weeks ago, at which point things just seemed to get abruptly worse, which is a bit odd since you'd think all that rain would have washed most of the pollen or whatnot out of the air.

A lot of people have ended up in my office needing a steroid shot or a round of oral steroids.

How do I know that was officially a drought-busting rain? A) I saw it. B) I think we were about 4 inches down for the year and we got 7. C) I'm seeing standing water accumulation in the appropriate bottomland, swampy areas of Johns Island for the first time in three or four years. About time!

Edward M. Gilbreth is a Charleston physician. Reach him at edwardgilbreth@comcast.net.

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