As much as I want to love nature, it doesn’t love me back. The irony of that is hilarious, given that nature made it possible for me to be here, but instead of wanting to keep me here…it’s trying to take me out. As the seasons change and we go from green to yellow, to orange, to grey, my health is affected. I love the grey, the winter, because I get to enjoy the outdoors and not have to continuously ask myself: Do you have your inhaler? Did you take your medicine? Nose spray? I look and the trees stand beautifully, adorned with textures woven throughout each part, each differing species from species. Summer grass shimmers in vibrant hues, creating the feeling of Earth being at peace. Yet, the wind bears hidden trials. It’s that same breeze that bring peace under the blazing sun, carrying relief, that also carries nature’s tiny burdens that bring trouble. To find peace with the rustling trees, the blooming flowers, the vibrant grass, and the creatures of this earth, I have to use synthesized products to keep my reactions at bay.

 

A tree stands as a silent witness to the passage of time, rooted yet ever-reaching. Their limbs stretch out as they cradle the wind, whispering secrets only the leaves understand. Offering shade to the weary and shelter to the wild. Yet, for all their quiet generosity, the air they cleanse, the homes they provide, the beauty they etch into the landscape, they carry hidden betrayals. Their pollen drifts, unbidden and unseen, setting fire to lungs, marking skin with red patches, a reminder that even grace has its price. Their oils settle on an unwilling participant's skin and mark the skin with red hives. An unwarranted itchy mess is the price I pay for five minutes underneath a beautiful tree.

 

One tree in particular, admired for its looks, often resides in parks and landscapes throughout the United States. The American Beech, with its smooth, silvery-gray bark, becomes ornamental, as its ovate and glossy leaves stay year-round, persisting well into winter. Not only do they create more livable surroundings for people, but they also serve as natural filters and stabilizers within the landscape. Funny how, in one specific spot where 225,000 people walk past an American Beech in Memphis, Tennessee, there’s one person who needs a survival strategy just to make it through the walk.

 

In Memphis, Tennessee, resides a botanical garden, and within the 96 acres lie a level four arboretum and 30 specialty gardens. The issues, for me, lie within the level 4 arboretum certification and among the 180 species of trees: The American Beech specifically. As the Fagus Grandifolia extends its broad, low-hanging branches, creating a quiet sanctuary where the light peaks through. It’s 80 feet tall, with walls sculpted by silvery-grey bark and oval-shaped, pointed 6-inch-tipped leaves, creating benches for those seeking solitude underneath its canopy. Unfortunately, once I sought the serenity of this tree, it also ruined my exploration of the garden. It was winter, spring barely peeking through, so as one with allergies thinks, nature is dead. It’s arising from the dead soon, but there’s still time, or so I thought. It’s leaves leaving an opening, like it was waiting for someone to walk in, and naïve little me did. I wasn’t thinking about how trees make me itch or create a bright red patch of skin. I was in the mindset that nature is dead, which was a lie. I spent maybe five minutes underneath the tree, taking pictures and goading my sister to climb it. As she messed around, I started to turn red. It was also about 40 degrees, so I thought it was possibly the weather. The prickliness of being cold settled in, but underneath it was the feeling of being on fire. Five minutes was all it took. Five minutes under the beech’s towering grace before my skin blazed in defiance. My immune system treated its pollen like an invader, my skin shrank from its touch; the oil left behind from touching the leaves left my knees red and inflamed.

 

It seems that the airborne particles, alongside the mere touch of the American Beech’s leaves, left me reacting. My immune system considers these outside particles, called allergens, foreign to my body, and it will, evidently, react to them. So once the pollen and other tree essence attached themselves to me, the red itchy response was the antibodies. Antibodies are like your body’s security system, built to recognize and attack invaders, and when it comes to allergies, they’re the superheroes, trained by your immune system to go after anything it sees as a threat. Each antibody and its shape are important because they need to match the invader, and once an antibody locks onto a virus or bacterium, it either neutralizes it or tags it for destruction. It seems that allergens are tagged and soon sought out by my immune system to respond, hence the red. The antibodies travel towards the mast cells, which are your skin, nose, and the mucus membrane in your nose, and their job is to torture me and make me sneeze and itch as their job is to secrete, or flood chemicals to flush out the allergen.  

 

We continued on our walk through the various gardens, but the red and thickness started to take precedence. Instead of enjoying my time, here I was suffering from one little mistake of wanting to explore a tree that stemmed from curiosity. Curiosity killed the cat, and it ended my botanical garden adventure. After 30 minutes of trying to speed along and explore as much as possible, it began to be too much. So we headed straight for the inside, because at this point, I knew it was my allergies causing issues. As I head into the bathroom, where four other women are inside, I gather five paper towels and soak them with water. I frantically rubbed against my thighs, then my knees, and finally my shins and calves, one leg after the other, and then I was back. No itchiness, and the redness was gone in three minutes; I was back to normal…but my garden experience was over too early. A gift provided by the lovely, beautiful, majestic American Beech.

 

It seems like that certain allergic reaction was more contact dermatitis than airborne; basically, once I touched the oils produced by the trees, the antibodies went crazy.  I love that I get to have both! It’s a special feat to not be able to touch or breathe in nature. When my body comes into contact with an object or chemical, like the oils of the American Beech, my body reacts to said allergens. As the antibodies start to attack the foreign bodies that my body does not recognize, the actual reaction enters…histamines, which makes it worse before it gets better! The mast cells get the call from the antibodies, and then they release the chemical. This makes my blood vessels leak a bit, which causes the redness and itchiness because I decided to touch a tree. At times, the reaction may break out into the itchy bumps we call hives. Which I only get when I’m dealing with dog and cat saliva! So the trees don’t get that win, only the cute and cuddly animals. Which means the only way to really treat the contact dermatitis is to wash the oils or allergen residue away. Which does work, evidently.

 

There’s this delicate balance with nature. It shapes life, but it also takes life. We have sunlight provided to us to keep us warm and alive, we have water cycling through to provide the earth and humans with hydration, and the soil that allows us to eat. We have trees that provide shelter and air, and flowers that offer beauty. It also takes storms uproot, droughts parch, and time erodes mountains. As life goes on, cycles demand sacrifice, nature dies, predators kill to survive, and humanity suffers through as well. Humans take from nature, reshaping it through building infrastructures, cultivating crops, and bending rivers to their will. As we poison the waters and the air, we suffer as well. When we breathe the oxygen gifted by trees, but also kill them for our needs, or rely on soil but don’t fertilize it to keep it healthy. Nature gives us life, it inspires art, science, and philosophy, as it pushes the boundaries of thought and creativity.  As we take from nature and its resources, we also need to give back and protect it. Unfortunately for me, I can’t give back to what nature has given me because it prevents me from doing so.

 

Imagine at the age of six being pricked by needles and being told that an inhaler will be part of your life forever. All because your asthma is allergy-induced, and you’re allergic to anything and everything once you step outside on a sunny, breezy, spring day. It was a summer day, and my dad was mowing the lawn, and I think it was a Saturday as well. During that time, my room had doors to the back deck, and they were open to let the breeze in, but that also meant the smell of grass, and its particles were coming in, and the pollen in the air was intensified by the grass. As the freshly cut blades released proteins that cause skin irritation, dust, mold spores, and plant debris were also up in the air as well. The air was already dense, so it was pretty hard to breathe from that, and then the smell of grass happened to be upon me.

 

This is where we see those airborne allergens previously mentioned hit me. As the chemicals secrete to try to flush out the grass particles, pollen proteins, I wasn’t sneezing as much as I usually do because I was…well, incapacitated. It was more so watery eyes, snot running down my nose, and the feeling of my lungs constricting. A particular enzyme that pollen spews out is called NADPH oxidase. Which basically means before my immune system even begins to react, the pollen itself is already stirring up trouble…typical. The oxidases start a chemical reaction the moment it’s inside my body, because breathing is just not allowed for me, it seems. They are super reactive molecules, and they interfere with the normal communication between cells. Meaning my cells get confused, and my immune system starts to overreact, thus the allergic reactions. Pollen likes to fight, so my body fights back, and I’m in the middle, dealing with the aftermath.

 

I was six, trying to get dressed in a two-piece shirt, I have a feeling you know the one. Where it was a tank top over another tank top, and the two pieces of fabric would always be tangled. I didn’t have an inhaler at that time, as I hadn’t been diagnosed officially yet, because again, I was six. So, if something were to happen, I would go to my dad, and unfortunately, that was not in my favor at the time. I was starting to feel the wheezing happening, my lungs closing in on themselves, and the smell of grass suffocating me. My dad a backyard away, not being able to see me. I couldn’t go outside yet to get him because I was still trying to get on a shirt that fights everyone, especially the ones who are panicking. I remember having the shirt halfway on as I lay on the cold, wooden floors crying. I don’t remember anything after that.

 

The funny thing is, with the oxidative stress, the NADPH oxidases it tends to lead to exacerbated asthma and allergies. Which is evidently seen with my reaction, amongst other things. That suffocated feeling and wheezing I was talking about? That’s all asthma, baby!

 

Soon, I am seven years old and being tested for allergies. I have my own inhaler now, but it’s time to address my allergies. This was before they would roll the needles on your skin at once, so instead, a nurse would pick up a needle filled with allergens and prick me with it. One-by-one. 40 on one arm and 40 on the other, and 75 across my back. Seven years old, while having to sit still for hours, being poked and prodded, with only a flip phone and a boring basketball game as a poor attempt at distraction. But we found some answers, and I am allergic to pollens, mold, dust mites, cats, dogs, horses, grass, and certain trees. I don’t remember the specifics, but from what I’ve mentioned…nature is clearly my enemy.

Nature offers a paradox—beauty woven into every leaf, every blade of grass, every petal unfurling toward the light, yet beneath that beauty lies an unseen struggle. It does not choose sides. It does not warn.

 

I have lived my entire life fighting nature. I would love to enjoy sitting outside on a sunny day, enjoying the breeze without taking my usual precautions. I would love to be able to be surrounded by flowers without pollen taking its revenge on me as I smell them. I would love to be able to climb trees without worrying about what would happen if I scratched myself. I would love to be able to sit under a tree in the grass without the worry of a bright red rash. I would love being able to love on a dog and be loved by a dog without having to immediately wash my arms or, as a consequence, break out in hives. I would love to be able to cuddle my cat without having to push her away when my chin and eyes begin to itch. I would love to love nature without having to protect myself from nature. In the end, though, nature takes as much as it gives.