Flashes of Panic

Riding home tonight, I noticed a lot of drifting tree pollen. Fluff, actually. It looks like a very light snowstorm on a sunny day, and I passed one driveway which looked positively snowed in with the output of a nearby tree.

When I was in St. Petersburg (nearly ten years ago!) the city was nearly snowed in by the same stuff. I asked about it, wondering if it was something special. The answer I got was simply, “пух.” (Pronounce that like “Pooh,” but end it with a sort of “kh” sound like you’re starting to clear your throat.) It seemed like there was an inch of it everywhere, every day. When I got up to run in the morning there was always a fresh coat. I didn’t even run very early; despite the almost constant sunshine (at its longest, “night” lasted three or four hours while I was there,) Petersburgers are not ones for being up and about.

I don’t know the perfect translation for пух. In fact, when I see the stuff now, I think of it with the Russian word, because it seems more apt.