The Snowbirds miss the Heat and with it, the Beauty

Poinciana Tree, ferny leaves, fiery red blooms

Every time our friends go back up North to their abandoned winter homes, our neighborhood turns into a ghost town. While they’re gone (approximately six months), I’m reminded of how much they all miss.

Sure it’s hot down here, but the daily rains banish our muggy temperatures and give us brief relief. Yes, it’s uncomfortably hot outside, but so is Indiana, Washington D.C., Georgia, Maryland, New York, and many other states in the summer.

What are these part-time residents missing out on? The poinciana trees are at their prime! Their glorious orange-red florets cascade into pompoms down every branch. They are joined by white sweet-smelling jasmine and multi-colored hibiscus and Mexican petunias.

Even better, the restaurants are only half-filled; no standing in line for a table. The stores are competing with 70% off sales and the cafes have reduced price Happy Hours. The added attention we get in the way of service allows us to eat out more often. Movie theaters are never sold out. There is plenty of parking at the Malls.

I’m not bragging. I’m elated that the traffic is less and that the beaches take half the time to get to and enjoy. We have Fort Myers all to ourselves, we locals. In spite of the heat, this is the time we enjoy best for all it has to offer.

Toppled tree after Hurricane Wilma.

Yes, hurricane season is upon us, but I’ll swap this over the tornadoes and floods they’re having in the Midwest. We can either evacuate to safer areas, or hunker down depending on the directives. We are seasoned Floridians. We have lived here year round for almost 13 years.

We rode out Charlie and Wilma. We were luckier than many who not only lost their electricity for several weeks, but their homes were destroyed as well. We’re far enough from the beaches to avoid flooding, and close enough to enjoy its gritty offerings when we choose.

Palm trees sometimes lost their tops.

Our neighborhood has had a few scrapes with the weather. We’ve had to replace a few lanais’ (patio cages), and a few trees, but all in all we’ve weathered the storms better than some other areas. 

Every year we make our checklist of hurricane preparedness. We purchase the bottles of water. See that the “igloos” and food coolers are clean and ready. Purchase food we can warm up on a charcoal grill if the electricity is down. We’re pros! We’re survivors.

A banyan tree was almost totally destroyed.

Photo taken 13 years ago in Pine Island.

Sometimes we fly away to see friends and family with the hopes of cooling off. But then we discover their homes are less comfortable than our own because they refuse to use their air conditioning system. They’ve just come through a brutal cold winter, and the heat is too precious to waste.

We do the same in the winter. A good month is when we’ve braved the 45-55 degree weather outside and didn’t turn on the thermostat.

Our blood has grown thinner. Our teeth chatter when it gets below 60. But when the August sunshine reaches 99 or above, we’re still going strong!

Several years later, I turned that photo into an oil painting.

Facing the Wind in Times of Trouble

"Sand Crane Dreams" (Some cranes think they are Indians)

I visited my daughter in Texas recently. Her husband is stationed at Fort Hood and is now in Afghanistan. I had visited them before; but on this trip, I focused my artist’s eye on the lookout for possible paintings.

The Lone Star State is all they say it is: “Big!” You can drive for hundreds of miles; thousands, and still be in Texas. My son-in-law’s jeep has a silver star on each hub cap. He’s a Texas boy, born and bred, but with Irish heritage. He’s the only blue-eyed, red haired Irishman I know with a Texas drawl.

There’s so much history in Texas. I wanted to stop and snap photos of antiquated windmills, dilapidated barns, museums, oil pumps, bayous, bogs, cowboys, cattle ranches and the “piney woods,” but we had a timetable. Our radio station blared cowboy music 24/7. My favorite refrain: “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

A story in the “Daily Word” last month talked about the old Texas windmills; how in order to pump water, they had “to face into the wind.” This is a lesson many people have yet to learn. When problems come, they run away; either literally or by escape losing themselves to drugs, sex, or food addictions.

"Americana" (part of America's past)

If we could face the wind like these stalwart prairie soldiers do when troubles come, we’d all be better off. If we met our problems head on instead of running away, or drowning them in more sorrow and pain, we would endure. Of course, a little faith in a higher power never hurts.

Some of these windmills have been standing for hundreds of years. They have weathered tornadoes, droughts, blistering sun and abuse, yet still they stand.

A motel where we stayed in Oklahoma had a storm with straight line winds that put the fear of death in our bellies. The whistling of the windows sounded like the proverbial oncoming train, and we covered our heads and prayed. The next day as the storms moved northeast, the sky was filled with rolling clouds and spectacular form and color. The highway didn’t allow for camera stops, and I hoped my brain could remember the sights I witnessed.

At one point, I remember thinking “horses of the apocalypse.” Surrounded by a ring of swirling and fantastic clouds, my imagination could see horses rearing on their back hooves, and others standing their ground. Oh, how I longed to stop and take out my camera!

The Chickasaw Indians and the Shawnees have casinos in the area. I thought of their ancestors circling the white men and soldiers on horseback from the rims of the surrounding red cliffs. An abstract painting began to form composed of cloud patterns, Indian motifs, feathers from their headdresses and from the hawks that awaited their prey.

Titles swirled in my head: “Sky Lights” or “Prairie Skies.” I created not on canvas but in my head. Scenes flew before my eyes. Whether they will stay in memory long enough for me to capture them on paper is another matter.

(Background)

(background)

Getting out of our own environment once in awhile can jar us from our complacency. It can open up new worlds of inspiration. Whether I actually capture and paint these memories or use my notes is inconsequential. I will never be the same again!