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 »