I polished my shoes before the funeral. This is what they looked like after a few minutes in the grass.
The pollen was so thick you could see it wafting in the breeze not that there was much if any zephyr present. Standing in the sun at the graveside in my suit sweating like a jenny the pollen stuck to all exposed areas of the epidermis which for me means the face and cranium where the achaetous thatch used to reside.

(Hey SD, that last sentence is my feeble attempt at a Faulkner impersonation).