The sound of Bok Tower’s carillon bells was so mesmerizing that I did not notice the snake. I stood at the far end of the tower’s reflecting pond, enjoying the ethereal music, until suffocating midday heat drove me to the shaded concrete benches at the edge of the semi-circular clearing. Suddenly, a movement. A black snake lying beneath the bench retreated a few inches as I approached. I stopped dead. Head up, the snake wove back and forth in the air for a few seconds before retreating into the bushes. Did I dare sit? He slithered back out of the bushes and curled around the base of a trash can. Waiting.

Friendly or not, I wasn't about to sit next to this black water snake

What if I had unknowingly sat on that bench? A simple black water snake, harmless, and yet…I don’t like to be startled by them. I am actually quite fascinated by snakes. But oh my God! To be sitting there and have it slither across my feet or wrap around my ankles; I shivered at the thought. His tongue flicked repeatedly from his snout. Brazenly, he inched his sleek black body closer. In the middle of the chipped-wood path he stopped, basking in the sunshine. Perspiration poured down my face and back. I needed to rest in the shade and dry my sweat-soaked pants and T-shirt, but the two-foot long snake barred my way. Again his tongue darted out, testing. Tentatively, I moved a step closer. He bolted into the dense foliage at the edge of the pond. Had he gone into the water? Crouching down, I peered into the vegetation and finally spotted the tip of his pointy tail protruding from the shrubbery. Had I not seen him go in, I would never have known he was there.

Bok Tower reflects into pond in the late afternoon setting sun

All the animals I encountered at Bok Tower Gardens seemed fearless. Rather than running away, squirrels chuckled and scolded. Mockingbirds serenaded from low branches. Gigantic weaver spiders tensed in the center of enormous webs, patiently awaiting prey. Even the resident swans swam right up, hoping to steal fish food pellets meant for giant carp thrashing about in the pond. Somehow, the animals know they are protected here.

Billed as, “A remarkable experience that will elevate your mind and spirit,” these exquisite gardens exist due to the efforts of Edward W. Bok a Dutch immigrant and humanitarian who came to the U.S. at the age of six. In 1889, Bok became the editor of the Ladies Home Journal, a position he would hold for the next 30 years. During visits to his Florida winter home in the 1920′s, Bok witnessed the beauty and dramatic sunsets of Iron Mountain, the highest point in peninsular Florida. Awed by the tranquility of the area, he purchased the land and commissioned renowned landscape architect Frederick Law Olmstead Jr. to create a stunning garden that would become a haven for native birds, plants and wildlife. Bok worked closely with Olmstead through the design process and after giving his final stamp of approval, left to tour Europe. Read the rest of this entry »

Environmentalists constantly charge that development has deprived plants and animals of their natural habitat. While I would normally agree, a few thing have happened over the past few weeks that make me wonder whether this is true, or if plants and animals are adapting just fine to cityscapes.

Last week, I was walking along Main Street in downtown Sarasota. It was early evening, perhaps 7 p.m., and still light. As I passed the building housing the offices of First Baptist Church, I glanced down at the sidewalk. Lying on the concrete, at the junction where the church building butted up against the locksmith shop, was a length of rubber tubing. I took a few more steps before it registered. “What on earth was that?” I wondered aloud. I backed up and bent down for a second look. Just a two-foot length of black rubber hose, sticking out of a hole in the mortar between the buildings. Then it moved. Slowly it backed away from me, sliding back into the circular hole a few inches. Thinking I was imagining things, I inched closer, cautiously. Again the snake retreated, this time until only its head was visible at the entrance of the hole. I blinked and it was gone. I have no idea what type of snake it was; I was so astounded to see it in the midst of an urban environment that I never thought to identify it.

Night Blooming Cereus flowers adorn the scraggly cactus just one night each year. Photo courtesy of http://skiplombardi.org.

Later that same night, I was leaving my favorite coffee shop following a performance by guitarist/vocalist Michael Miller, when his wife, Laura, told me about the Night Blooming Cereus, a cactus flower that only opens after dark, and only blooms for a single night each year. This being the long-awaited night, I drove to the Towles Court neighborhood in search of the elusive flower. As Laura had promised, it was a Read the rest of this entry »

Red-Shouldered Hawk in Sarasota, Florida

We had a big blow today. As I pulled into the parking lot at my apartment, tropical storm strength winds were kicking up dust and sending debris flying through the air. I don’t know what made me look up into the tree limbs hanging just beyond my windshield, or how I even spotted him. Sitting in the nook of a tree limb, perfectly camouflaged, was a Red Shouldered Hawk. Other than blinking at me, he sat perfectly still, even when I opened the rear cargo door, gathered up my groceries, and walked to my front door. I can only assume he was disorientd by the high winds. I never expected him to still be there by the time I returned with my camera, but he posed for a half-dozen photos before disappearing in a flutter of feathers. We don’t always need to travel to exotic places to experience nature. Beauty is all around us – if only we are open to seeing it.

I saw them before I heard them. On the distant horizon a line of tiny black specks appeared in the crystal blue sky. From their classic ‘V’ formation I knew they were Canada Geese. As I watched, thousands more rose from behind the distant treeline that marked the river, broke into smaller flocks, and circled to get their bearings. Wave after wave flew overhead, filling the sky with their dark silhouettes and the air with their strident, guttural honking.

Looking over the tall prairie grasses toward the Goose Lake Prairie visitors center.

It is nearly 4 p.m. and all around me the prairie grasses of Goose Lake Prairie State Natural Area are turning to burnished gold in the setting sun. I wonder why the geese have waited until the day’s end to take flight. Do they always travel after dark? Perhaps they fly at night so they can spend the day feeding. And why have they waited until January to head south? This seems late to me. Whatever the reason for their late migration, I am grateful to have been witness to this glorious sight. Read the rest of this entry »

Outside it is chilly, the midday temperatures dropping into the 50′s. Inside I am toasty warm, my bare feet stretched toward the yellow flames that dance in the Franklin stove. Every window of the cabin windows looks out on trees that have dressed in their fall finery; rich leaves of red, ocher, and gold mingle with the green hangers-on. Fat squirrels with fatter tails chatter obliviously as they scamper from limb to limb; the leaves they knock to the ground weave a patchwork carpet on the forest floor.

A cloud descends onto the mountaintop, disappearing the forest. Only the nearest trees are visible now, their muted palette of leaves half-seen in the fog. The squirrels hunker down and the birds stop singing. A stillness so deep permeates the forest that I wonder if the world has stopped spinning.

Sometimes I disappear. I descend into despair so deep and fixated that I cannot touch it. The pointlessness of life, the endlessness of it, overwhelms me. I cannot fathom my reason for being. I think perhaps that I have accomplished everything I came here to do and Read the rest of this entry »

There’s a birdbath on my bedroom deck but I never remember to fill it with water, so it sits there like some long abandoned cast iron sundial, ignored by the neighborhood birds. Over the last couple of days, however, the rain has done my job for me. This morning I woke to the sounds of birds happily splashing around in the water. I lay in bed for a while, enjoying their cackling and whistling, promising myself that I would remember to fill the birdbath more often. Then, since they seemed to want to stick around, I grabbed my camera, popped on the telephoto lens, carefully parted the blinds, and found myself face-to-face with a spectacular pair of woodpeckers. To my surprise, both had shunned the birdbath. One, a Red-belied Woodpecker, was perched among the spiny stalks of the Bromeliads that line the deck railing. The flowers’ deep purple and red red cups were brim-full of rainwater, creating a natural birdbath for him. A common bird, but beautiful just the same. The other, a Red-cockaded Woodpecker, clung to the side of an old piece of driftwood that is home to dozens of air plants, pecking his heart away. Although much less showy in color and markings, this species is now classified as endangered and is a much rarer sight. The wonders of nature abound.