per·i·pa·tet·ic
ˌperēpəˈtedik/
adjective
  1. 1.
    traveling from place to place, especially working or based in various places for relatively short periods.
    "the peripatetic nature of military life"
    synonyms:nomadic, itinerant, traveling, wandering, roving, roaming, migrant,migratory, unsettled
    "I could never get used to her peripatetic lifestyle"
  2. 2.
    Aristotelian.
noun
  1. 1.
    a person who travels from place to place.
  2. 2.
    an Aristotelian philosopher.
Showing posts with label Manatees. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Manatees. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

The Cold Truth About Florida: Not Much Funnin' or Sunnin' This Winter (2014)


Winter Storm Leon's Ice Leans On The Pool Enclosure Last Night (I warm up by imagining Chihuly's Persian Ceiling covering the icy white canvas)
Once we recovered from the flu-like illness that plagued us for most of December, SAM and I headed south to the Florida Keys for some funnin' and sunnin', hoping to escape the cold air those Canadians keep sending our way...

Arctic blasts chase us as we wind our way down the west coast of Florida. We take our sweet time, stopping along the way at Crystal River (much too cold to swim with the manatees)...



Homosassa Springs...

Park Ranger tossing heads of lettuce (looks like Romaine) to manatees taking a "Spring Break" from the cold

and Naples (love the warm, indoor exhibits--Chihuly's Ceiling and other works--at The Baker Museum; "sorry, no cameras or other recording devices to be used inside")...



as well as various walking places along the Tamiami Trail through the Everglades.

We finally make it to the Keys where we enjoy a few days of sunny warmth, a fishing expedition with Cap'n Perry Scuderi among the mangrove islands...

Good eatin' size snapper and sea trout

and some mighty fine food at various local restaurants, including Lazy Days Restaurant, recommended by Cap'n Perry for its "you hook 'em, we cook 'em" preparation of fresh snapper.

Once we have our fill of fun and sun in the Keys (not really! I wanna go back!), we drive part way up the east coast to visit some of SAM's relatives. One of them, 97 now, seems to go on forever like the lady in Tom Petty's song. Her kids joke that she's determined to outlive them.



Sobered by the visit, yet somehow fortified or steeled by it too (remember the irascible someone from another trip?), we cross the state again. We stop in Clermont and find Lakeridge Winery, complete with a wonderful wine host (Doug) who breaks up the monotony of highway travel with his lighthearted banter. Who knew that wine (and its imbibers) could be so funny?


One of our last stops on the way home is Fanning Springs State Park. Though it is close to sunset, and the evening is predicted to be another cold one, we need a place to stretch our legs and use the "facilities" so we pay the entrance fee and take a short walk to the springs.


Once again, we find that the manatees have made their way inland to warm up for the night. I hope for their sake (and ours!) that this cold weather ends soon. Truth be told, most of Florida just ain't fit for much funnin' or sunnin' so far, this winter of 2014 :(

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Some Real Southern Comfort--Manatees, Mamas, Homemade Pies, and a Backyard Bouquet

I've been cooling my heels and soothing my spirit lately with some real Southern comfort. No, not that stuff in a bottle that some people think is whiskey. A few weeks ago, Son and his family visited us in Tallahassee, and we took them to Wakulla Springs. It was a hot day with intermittent rain showers, which is typical weather for Florida at this time of year. We wanted them to experience the boat tour we had taken this past winter, but the threat of thundershowers postponed the departure several times. When we finally got underway, we were treated to several manatee sightings, including this one of mama manatee with her youngster. As you can see, the water is much more clear at this time of year as compared to the last time we visited the park.

Micah didn't seem to mind the wait at all. He spent a lot of time building his own version of castles in the sand. At least on this little beach, the tide won't take them down. His mom and I kept an eye on him while Son and SAM tested the coolness of the water. According to our boat guide for the tour, it stays right around 68 degrees Fahrenheit year-round. 

...The life in us is like the water in the river. It may rise this year higher than man has ever known it, and flood the parched uplands; even this may be the eventful year, which will drown out all our muskrats. It was not always dry land where we dwell. I see far inland the banks which the stream anciently washed, before science began to record its freshets... (from Walden, Chapter 18: Conclusion, by Henry David Thoreau)

...Everyone has heard the story which has gone the rounds of New England, of a strong and beautiful bug which came out of the dry leaf of an old table of apple-tree wood, which had stood in a farmer's kitchen for sixty years, first in Connecticut, and afterward in Massachusetts--from an egg deposited in the living tree many years earlier still, as appeared by counting the annual layers beyond it; which was heard gnawing out for several weeks, hatched perchance by the heat of an urn. Who does not feel his faith in a resurrrection and immortality strengthened by hearing of this?...


It might not be as naturally refreshing as spring water, but the pool at home lets us enjoy the outdoors at a time of day when we would normally be found inside keeping cool in the air conditioning. Son doesn't often get to savor moments like this one. I hope I don't sound too corny here, but I'm going to say it anyway. Son is one of my heroes. He works harder than anyone I know, outside in Florida's summertime heat and humidity, lifting heavy drilling augers, and toting sacks of Portland cement and bentonite. He started this kind of work ten years ago when his dad and I started an environmental service company. Son didn't know what he wanted to do with his life at that time, tried college and quit, so we took the plunge and invested our savings and borrowed money to start a family business. We had just bought our first drilling rig and began to find work in West Kentucky when 9-11 came along and knocked the wind out of this country and most of our prospects for business. State money--much of it from gasoline taxes--for testing and cleanup of contaminated sites was diverted elsewhere as the nation's fast-flowing economy began its slow but steady decline to a trickle. Private work at factory sites dried up too as companies began tightening their belts. We moved south to Florida because SAM and Son were traveling so often to work there. The work that seemed so plentiful at first on the east coast disappeared within a few months, and we packed up again to move to our home near Pensacola. With the state funding squeezed so tightly that it was gasping for breath within a couple of years of moving there, SAM and I decided it was time to sell the company. We needed to get out while the gettin' was still good. But what would Son do now? He had met his true love, gotten married, and acquired a mortgage. SAM found him a decent paying job with a company that had bought some of our equipment. Son has been working there ever since, but the work is beginning to take its toll on his body. Somehow, he finds the strength and time to take college courses after working 50-60 hours a week. He has some goals in mind, and he's taking the necessary steps, painful though they may be, to achieve them. Now do you understand why I admire him so much? I wish that we had sold our home earlier this year so we could help him financially. Apartment life isn't so bad, and I'm getting used to the Tallahassee area--meeting new gardening friends, hiking (when it's cooler), and paddling the many spring-fed rivers in the area. 
 Some of Nature's handiwork can be seen along the Chipola River.


A couple of weekends ago, we found a great blue heron resting from its fishing work at Wacissa. Wouldn't you love to have that job?

 
This past weekend, after some wistful remarks by SAM that he had not tasted a lemon meringue pie in a very long time, I decided to bake some Southern comfort for Sunday dessert. Along with a cheesecake baked by daughter-in-law, the lemon pie and a blueberry cream pie rounded out a meal of barbequed ribs, homemade macaroni and cheese and tossed salad. If not for the heat outside and the calendar reminding us that it's still July, it could have been Thanksgiving Day.


Between rain showers and right before dinner on Sunday, I threw together some hastily gathered flowers and took a picture so I could participate in Noelle's (Arizona Plant Lady) Monthly Garden Bouquet meme. What's blooming and otherwise showing its color in my backyard and other garden areas at this hot time of year? Colocasia esculenta 'Black Magic,' Rudbeckia 'Goldsturm,' Spanish lavender, hydrangea 'Endless Summer,' and some unknown hosta. I also added some fern leaves to the vase. I hope you enjoy my version of Southern comfort. 

...Who knows what beautiful and winged life, whose egg has been buried for ages under many concentric layers of woodenness in the dead dry life of society, deposited at first in the alburnum of the green and living tree, which has been gradually converted into the semblance of its well-seasoned tomb--heard perchance gnawing out now for years by the astonished family of man, as they sat round the festive board--may unexpectedly come forth from amidst society's most trivial and hand-selled furniture, to enjoy its perfect summer life at last!...

Friday, January 29, 2010

NN/SOTS: First to Be Last


Much Madness is divinest Sense--
To a discerning Eye--
Much Sense--the starkest Madness--
'Tis the Majority
In this, as All, prevail--
Assent--and you are sane--
Demur--you're straightway dangerous--
And handled with a Chain--
(a poem by Emily Dickinson, c. 1862)

SAM the doughy-butt bureaucrat--that's what he calls himself now--and I needed some serious recreation, and we found it last Saturday at Wakulla Springs, south of Tallahassee. After visiting the lodge and walking the grounds for a while, we waited with several other people on the dock where some pontoon boats were tied up, ready to take the next scheduled tour. SAM was sprawled out in a corner, trying to catch a few rays while I stayed busy with the camera. We were not paying any attention to how the small group of people had suddenly swelled to a crowd of about forty people and also to how a line was forming in response to one of the ranger-guides stepping into one of the boats. Then I heard a kid yell to his parents, "Hurry up, guys, I'm up here. We're gonna get the best seats!" SAM grabbed my arm and pulled me to the end of the line, not looking at all pleased. "Relax," I told him. Somehow I knew that my favorite maxim would come through for us again. As the French like to say: Le premier sera le dernier! And vice versa, don't you know?

A second boat and guide were added to accommodate the end-of-the-liners. We knew that we had found the mother-lode with this man. He introduced himself as Luke and proceeded to tell us, "This ain't no Disney World! This is the reeeaalll Florida!" I wish that I had taken video of him while he explained various aspects and highlights of the tour, but I was too busy trying to capture the various creatures he pointed out to us.

Luke slowed the boat to show us something really special--manatees. He explained that there are several of them living year-round at the Springs. There were actually two of them here when I took the picture, but only one of them surfaced near enough for me to sort-of focus on it. I am not that good at taking rapid-fire shots, the boat was moving ever so slightly, and I might have been just a little excited to see so much wildlife in one place. Most of my pictures did not turn out as well as I would have liked. They're a little fuzzy, but then so are my attempts at French pronunciation.


I thought that one of the most fascinating and mobile birds we encountered was the Anhinga. It always seems to be hanging itself out to dry.

The book I used to identify the birds once I got home--Luke knew them all, but I could not recall--the Reader's Digest Book of North American Birds, remarks that coots will swim over to join ducks or other waterfowl and perform pirouettes while stabbing at the water with their beaks. This strange dance is not for entertainment but to take advantage of the food stirred up by the other birds' feet as they paddle about. Their behavior is referred to as commensal feeding. I wonder if the coots also somehow know my favorite maxim.


Please visit Ramblingwoods.com for more of this week's posts linked to her Nature Notes/Signs of the Season meme.