There is a blooming cottonwood tree in our neighborhood sending little white fluffs floating through the air. It reminds me of a field trip I took in kindergarten. When we returned to school, the teachers gathered us on the lawn and gave each of us a little ice cream cup before the buses arrived to take us home. Cottonwood seeds were everywhere, landing in our hair and hovering over our ice cream. I watched in horror as one of my classmates continued to eat her ice cream despite the fact that it was covered in white cottonwood seeds. When I turned my attention back to my own ice cream, I realized I had l been looking away long enough for my own ice cream to collect a layer of fuzz.