Family time

The kids visited the last two weeks of my Florida month, and the blog got back-burnered. But it was a great trade-off! I've said it before and I'll say it again: my kids are the best! They showed up at different times for their share of time in the sun, and everything was bigger and brighter when they were around. They want to go and do, and do different things than I would think of. Better yet, they know how to laugh. Thanks, kids! till next time!

Last-minute musings

 Now that I'm home from my fourth February in warmer climes, I'm sure of it: a winter getaway is a wonderful thing, and I plan to keep doing it. So many things to see and do!

These guys express my feelings exactly. Bring on spring, and here's to the next adventure!

Beachin'

The plaque in the condo says it all:

I love "my" beach. 

It's wide, with firm sand for easy walking. There's public access, but not many people. Cars can drive on it, but only on a single track in a single direction, far from the water and the pedestrians. 

The beach is lined with condos and houses, but there are low dunes in between. The dunes are protected -- boardwalks are used to get to the beach. (The white thing is a gate with a lock and a code. We're security-obsessed around here, for no reason that I can see.)

Sunsets are best on the opposite side of the island, but they can still look pretty good from here.

At first the beach seems fairly boring. The shells all look alike (I think they're called arks--the ridged scallop-like shells on the lower left below). Then you start to see that there are lots of differences in size and coloration, and some white clams in the mix. The razor clams called jackknife clams are abundant in spots. The occasional olive shell turns up, or a horseshoe crab shell, or what I think are sharks'-eyes. I've found two of the elegant angel's wings. 

Dainty speckled crabs leave shells behind, and I've found a few nice whelks. I'm not sure how I'm going to drag all this home (plus the auxiliary stash out on the porch).

Google is our friend, but there are still questions. Why are there gazillions of jackknifes in one spot and none a little farther along? How do some shells get cemented to another? Why were lots of living black bivalves washed up on the incoming tide one day and none the next? For that matter, why do seagulls and terns congregate in certain spots, then suddenly bail out and go somewhere else? And who gets to decide? There need to be information booths up and down the beach!

The birds and bees alligators

Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge is a wonderful place. Back in the 1960s, the Feds acquired miles of land to create the Cape Canaveral space complex, but didn't need it all. Some hero whose name I've forgotten realized that they could carve a wildlife refuge out of it. 

It's huge; the 7-mile driving tour took us most of the afternoon. Birds love it. In the spring, the place must be crowded with warblers and other migrants. In winter, it's still a wonderful place to spend a day. I was too busy looking to take many photos, but I did get a reddish egret at work:

When the kids (daughter Beth, son-in-law Rob, and son Steve) arrived, the Alligator Farm was on their list of must-dos. It looks like a tourist trap, but is actually a reputable alligator research and conservation facility. And tourist trap.

There are more kinds of alligators and crocodiles than you can shake a stick at. Some are pretty cute.








Birds have discovered that the pickings are good here, and the trees are full of spoonbills, stocks, herons, and egrets. We're lucky to be here in early spring, when the fun is on.

Great egrets grow wonderful tail feathers to attract a mate.

The ladies seem to like them.









They also have a flashy neon green patch by their eyes, in case the feathers aren't dazzling enough.

The roseate spoonbills were busy gathering twigs, building nests, chasing off intruders, and just hanging out.

Oblivious to all the ruckus, the storks and a little blue heron seemed to be happy just sitting around.

Little lessons in history

History gets clearer, and sometimes sadder, when you look more closely.

The Spanish created Fort Mose, in the early 1700s, as a village for runaway slaves. Thanks to Ruth Madelhaft for reminding me about it. It was the first settlement of free African-Americans, today a serene site on a salt marsh.

I wasn't naive enough to think that the Spanish welcomed the runaways out of charity, and assumed they wanted to grow the population, because at the time they were fending off the British and even the French, all competing for colonial empire. The Spanish did offer a degree of citizenship of to all comers.You just had to swear allegiance to the crown, and become a Catholic. 

I wasn't paying close enough attention. The word "fort" should have been a clue. So should its location, two miles out of town. What I understood on my second visit last week was that those sneaky conquistadors really wanted a buffer against those same British and French, as well as hostile Native Americans. The ex-slaves had to do military service. Which of course meant they were expected to were expected to defend Spanish territory with their very blood. Which they did.

Similarly, I'd always thought it charming that there has been a marketplace in the center of the Old Town, by the church, for over 400 years.

I had to read a small sign the other day to realize that during the twenty-year British rule (1763-83), it was a slave market.

Old Town

I never get tired of the buildings in the Old Town. Europeans have lived here since 1565. Historic homes have been carefully recreated or restored (some date from the early 1700s). I'm certainly no expert, but there seem to be three major themes: 

There's colonial rustic,

19th Century Southern vernacular (second story balconies):

and Gilded Age faux-Spanish extravaganzas: 

The Old Town is not a huge area -- maybe 20 blocks -- but I keep finding new things to look at. There are tiny cemeteries behind ice cream shops and inns tucked down alleyways and fountains where you least expect them. Truly a place meant for strolling!

Flexibility
One good travel rule: be flexible. Wednesday my grand plan was to get to the Old City early to beat the tourist hordes. Halfway there, I suddenly realized that it was farmer's market day. Reverse course! I found lots of goodies, which necessitated going home to put things in the fridge. The Old City would wait. Now I have deliciousness.

That funny-looking white stuff in the corner? Frozen conch. Now if I can just figure out how to cook it . . .

The wealth factor
There's money here. Lots of it. Yesterday I accidentally discovered where the rich people live. There must have been five miles of mansions along the beach near Jacksonville, one right after the other. Dozens and dozens and dozens of them, lining one long road. Half had ocean views; I don't know how the poor saps on the other side of the road can live with their envy. Maybe they join The Surf Club or The Racquet Club or The Golf Club (and that was one elegant golf course, I'm telling you!).

All of them looked new, but strangely similar, like a subdivision. Almost all had an over-the-top central entryway, with gigantic wings on either side and enough room to house several families. Many were fake-Spanish, or fake-Southern plantation house.

This little item goes for $5 million:

I'm wondering where all that money comes from, and I'm guessing it's not the local economy. Maybe this is where the folks with "cottages" in Bar Harbor go in the winter,

Perhaps these folks feel an obligation to carry on in the fine show-off tradition of Henry Flagler, the oil magnate who got the tourist economy going back in the 1890s with his fabulous getaway hotel.