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.

The Grass always feels Greener Between your Toes

"Looking Outward" 3-D acrylic on glass window
with canvas behind, dog between.

The days of summer are behind us unless, as my husband says, “You live in the Tropics.” If you’re one of the lucky ones, you’re still enjoying it and walking bravely where others fear to tread. When I first encountered the lizards, snakes and other vermin running across my pathway, I wasn’t sure I wanted to walk barefoot in the grass. I was still plagued by memories of Washington where the morning after a mowing the velvet grass was covered with dew and mammoth snails that came out of hiding. After the sight of them, I never allowed my virgin feet to walk through that grass again! 

Children never think about “What Lurks Beneath.” They run barefoot, tumble and roll in the sweet smelling carpet without a moment’s hesitation. They’re uninhibited. I have to hand it to them. There’s something about walking barefoot on a green lawn or plunging your feet into warm soft sand that brings you closer to the earth and fills your heart with greater appreciation for the simple things of life.

 The people who garden here in Florida are covered from head to toe. Not only are there boots on their feet, but they wear hats, gloves, and long-sleeved shirts even in the heat of summer. You never know what’s going to jump out at you.

 
One of our land stewards at church came running inside after he’d poked his head into a dumpster. A wasp or bee stung him on the nose, and being super allergic, he was in a panic. After dousing his nose in cold water, he took off like a flash for a dose of epinephrine.

My fear of spiders goes way back to a near-death tangle with a brown recluse. I was hospitalized for ten days, had gangrene and serious blood poisoning. It’s no wonder that I’m always looking out of the corner of my eye for anything creepy and crawly.

 
So, you see, while you’re complaining about the cold up north and the impending snow, perhaps my sorry lament has made you feel better. While I’m swatting mosquitoes, you’re enjoying the crisp and colorful fall leaves. I’m sweeping palm frond seeds off my porch for the second time today, but you may be witnessing that first gentle coating of white sparkling snow.

 

It’s all relative of course. The grass is always greener in somebody else’s front yard. If we take time to appreciate the here and now, we’re the better for it. Smell the roses when they’re blooming. Enjoy the crunch of leaves underfoot. Taste the snowflakes while they’re clean and untouched. Enjoy the sunshine – bless the rain. Live your life to the fullest.

"Sea Breeze" acrylic on 2" deep wrap canvas

That’s Quite a Mouthful for a Boa

"Release, Panel 1"

A wood stork went fishing in the pond behind my villa. She waded out only a few inches, her gangly legs stilt-like above the surface of the water.

Thinking her fishing expedition would require time and patience, I turned away; but a flash of white from the corner of my eye brought me back to the window. Sure enough, the wood stork flew in my direction across the water, over the golf course and into my backyard.

The fish in her bill was a large sunfish; a prize catch. She held onto the squirming fish, struggling to get it down. With each swallow, her throat expanded. I worried that she'd bitten off more than she could chew. Like a mother hen, I fretted that she would choke or worse yet, die from over consumption.

"Wood Stork Reverie"

I must admit, I can relate. My own eyes are sometimes bigger than my stomach, and I often dish up more than I can eat. Humans are not alone in this. Seagulls have been known to stuff themselves so full they must regurgitate. But when they’re done, they go back for seconds and thirds.

A Burmese python running loose in the Everglades tried to swallow an alligator. The python’s eyes were bigger than her stomach; and to make matters worse, the alligator was prickly going down. The bite, the python’s last, proved fatal. The snake's lusty appetite was too much of a good thing. She literally exploded before her feast was over. Forgive me if I'm glad.

Once an endangered species, alligators are battling for their lives again. The indirect cause is man. Burmese python's brought to Florida from Southeast Asia as pets are the alligator’s number one problem. What would you do with a pet that has grown from one foot to almost 20 in a just few short years? Not wanting to euthanize a favorite pet, owners are releasing them into the wild. Not a good idea!

"Release, Panel II"

What happens when a 15 to 20 foot snake is set free in a lush tropical climate? They find others of their kind and multiply. Hungry Burmese pythons are devouring the food that indigenous reptiles and animals need for survival. They are eating already endangered species like mangrove fox squirrels and the endearing wood storks. They are competing for food with other threatened species like the eastern indigo snake and, of course, the alligators. But isn't there enough food to share? Not by a long shot.

The pythons are foreigners to Florida; they have no natural predators. They literally breed and feed unhampered by any natural enemies. That is until the Florida Fish and Wildlife department stepped in and declared open season on their removal. Each year, a special hunt is held to rid the everglades of these unwanted snakes. Anaconda, another encroaching pest, is included in this special shoot out.

Hunters from all over the world, eager to use their snake hunting skills participate. Once the snakes are caught, they will be killed either by machete or shot gun. If this makes you squeamish, consider this: the U.S. population imported approximately 144,000 Burmese pythons over the last five years. The hunts kill represents only a drop in the bucket.

I'm cheering for the hunters on this one, and hoping that the Burmese python has taken its last bite out of Florida's fragile ecosystem.

"Hey, Coconut Mon" mixed media on canvas

I’m Dreaming of a Green Christmas – Is there any other Kind?

Getting ready for the holidays here in Florida means that we plant flowers. Yes, you got that right! We use Christmas lights at night, but during the day time, our yards send a message of color, fun, and festivity.

Wrapping our palm trees and oak trees in twinkle lights tells everyone “this home is ready to rock!”

Added color in the garden sends the message that we’re “decking the halls” and yards with what we do best: grow things. Freshly mulched beds are planted with pink or red impatiens, silver leafed foliage, red begonias’ and geraniums. Even the acacia and catalpa trees are in bloom to welcome the season. In case you’re wondering, mowing lawns year-round and pruning are the norm here.

Those who don’t go north for the holidays are preparing for winter guests. We want to look our best. Our “winter wonderland” is a walk on our white sandy beaches. Wreaths hang on every light post accented with a red ribbon. The streets are bedecked with green boughs and lights.

My husband and I are participating with our church in a “Live Nativity” that mirrors the town of Bethlehem and recreates the story of old. Costume clad volunteers make the telling come alive through improvisation, scripture, and interaction with the people that come to see the event each year.

The tour guide gives each family a bag of money to pay the tax collector at the gates of the city. In return, the children are given change back in the form of gold coins. Their eyes grow in wonder at the end of their journey when they discover they get to keep them.

A beggar also pleads for money in the streets, and some of the children proffer their gold coins to him as a gift.

An angel is seen floating in the air near the fields where “shepherds watch over their flocks by night.” A few campfires are seen as the shepherds warm themselves and cook their meager meals.

In the streets of Bethlehem a few shop keepers hawk their wares or sweep their porches.

The tour group is turned away by an innkeeper who tells them there is no room. They hear that a young couple was also turned away for the same reason. “The woman was riding on a donkey,” the innkeeper says, and points ahead: “they went that way. Perhaps you’ll find some place to stay down that street.”

A full-size stable, manager, and the Holy Family are the highlight of the evening. Mary sings a lullaby to her baby and then places him in the manger.

As the group continues down the street, they are approached by three wise men dressed in splendor that have come to visit “the King.” They ask where they might find the babe so they may give him their gifts.

At journey’s end the guests are invited to enjoy the live music (a band and carollers) performing inside where they will be given something to eat and drink after their long journey. Fellowship is what it’s all about. The sharing of love and the spirit of Christmas makes a lasting impression.

We have not only attended the Live Nativity, but participated in it each year. We never grow tired of seeing the Biblical story come to life. We look forward to hearing the beloved story retold and the carols sung illuminating the reason for the Season.

One of our late sunsets on Sanibel Island.  Below, some boats at the Sponge Docks in Clearwater on a cloudy day.

Of Cabbages and Kings, of Toilet seats and Things

Springtime in Fort Myers -- an Art Show -- 2013 Bell Tower Shops

Florida living provides me with an endless supply of stories and artistic material for painting. Every day I see a wide variety of birds, animals, plants, and aquatic life.

Take this morning. I wasn’t expecting to see a black racer snake devour one of its own on my front porch, but I did.  And I don’t enjoy cracking the door ever so slightly when I leave the house to prevent a lizard, or whatever else is out there, the slightest chance of sneaking in; but I do.

I’m reminded that living in the tropics brings its own special joys and surprises; like the time I was caught in the buff by a thirsty green frog that was perched on my toilet seat. I don’t mind sharing, but not in this case.

I coaxed my mini-intruder into a glass jar and transported him outside, unharmed. If I can, I prefer to save life, even a frog’s. Lizards are another matter.

When I first moved to Florida, I couldn’t bear to kill anything. But after chasing several lizards through the house and having them hide under sofas and chairs, or behind the bookcase where they die a slow death, I’m willing to exterminate when necessary. At least lizards don’t stink when they decay. Like withered old soldiers, they just fade away, leaving a crusty carcass behind.

Today a pair of pileated woodpeckers landed on our cabbage palm; their arrival a breathtaking flash of blink-bright red and black. Observing their skinny necks and hammer-shaped heads made me think of another time and place, when prehistoric birds of Jurassic Park proportions roamed the earth; ancestors perhaps?

The large 18” birds circled the tree, hammering the shaggy palm bark with heavy silver bills in search of insects and grubs. Both birds used their long black tail feathers for balance, leaning on them like old rocking chairs. Suddenly, one of the pair fluttered to the upper palm fronds exposing white under wing linings, a striking contrast against the black flight feathers.

Someday I will paint the pileated woodpecker. 

 Robin’s are not particularly fussy about where they build their nests. I’ve seen a nest cradled in a wreath on someone’s door, and a nest wedged between a light fixture and the bricks on a friend’s front porch.

My friend watched over the nest like a mother hen; protecting first the blue green eggs that appeared, and then the tiny newborns that followed. Each time he stepped out on his porch, the mother robin swooped over his head and dive-bombed him to protect her nest. Little did she know that he was a staunch ally.

The robins’ precarious nest-building habits are not without risk, and many a nest topples to the ground following a strong windstorm. But when it comes to parenting, robins are seldom outmatched.

My acrylic painting “Robin Hood” was inspired by the apple blossoms in the spring and the sighting of a robin’s nest. 

"Robin Hood" 16 x 20 acrylic on canvas

On my daily walk, I watched a turkey vulture swoop overhead and land on a hot tile roof a few feet away. The buzzard spread its wings to soak up the sun and rest while it digested its morning meal.

A startled mocking bird stopped in mid-flutter to bombard the huge bird, diving at it with angry squawks and stabs of its beak, despite the fact that its enemy was ten times its size.

The indifferent vulture pulled in its neck, tucked its small red head between gangley wing blades, and stubbornly ignored the mocker’s tenacious thrusts.

Not to be outdone, the gutsy mocker continued to swoop and dive, until finally the exasperated vulture lifted its dark wings against the sky and flew off in search of a new perch.

I enjoy the antics of the Florida mocking bird, a slightly browner version than its northern counterpart. Its uproarious songs and saucy attitude inspired my acrylic painting: “Berry picking time.”

"Berry Picking Time" 16 x 20 acryllic on canvas

Take the Plunge; Dive into Your Work and Believe in Yourself

I’m a slow learner. I have to hear something many times before it “clicks,” and I finally understand. I have to paint many mistakes before my eyes actually see the object I’m struggling to paint. Mastering the art of painting, at least for me, has been a long and arduous journey.

Perhaps it seems that way because we don’t see how other people struggle behind the scenes. All we see is the finished product. We don’t know how many hours it took to paint that masterpiece. We sometimes wonder at the asking price, thinking it may be a tad high. Rarely do we know the time and effort that went into the project.

"Sand Cranes at Twilight"  24x30 mixed media canvas

I’m currently preparing for a show and trying to determine the price to put on my own paintings. First, I must consider the commission charged by the gallery, additional charges for credit card use, etc.; the cost of framing and materials, the amount of time and effort. By the time I consider the demands of the marketplace, my time is almost negligible!

I’m wondering if the show is really worth my efforts, and yet without publicity and advertising we remain at a standstill. There is satisfaction in seeing one’s work posted in a gallery. There is joy in making sales, even though, in the beginning of an artist’s career, it isn’t much.

"Window on Pine Island" 16x20 oil on wrap canvas

I’ll be participating with hundreds of other artists in the Art Council of Southwest Florida at Coconut Point. The location is good. The people are fantastic. Part of the fun of working with different leagues and galleries is the joy of meeting new people and making lasting friendships

.

Sure, I’ll give it a go. It’s all part of the adventure. You can’t just dip your toe in your profession or in the marketplace; eventually, you must take the plunge. Leaving your career to chance isn’t an option.

"Vikeholmen Lighthouse -- Skudeneshavn Norway" 16x20 acrylic

If you don’t give your dreams all you’ve got, you may as well hang them up to dry and let them wither on the vine of past regrets.

Please Your Painter’s Palate with a Creative Pot of Soup

I can't help myself. When the calendar reaches January, my mind conjures up images of winters past with snow and blowing cold. Even though I live in Florida, come January I get that "rumbley in my tumbley" for a crock full of homemade soup.

NEW Pastel -- "A Joyful Heart"

I love soup. I know it's not a guy thing, and nothing like real meat and potatoes, but it's user friendly. No matter what you put in the pot, it comes out smelling and tasting like fine wine or the best in epicurean cooking. And when you're done, you feel like you've accomplished something.

Some people have a tradition of serving black-eyed peas on New Year's day. I love black-eyed peas; but alas, my stash was gone, and we ended up with pea soup. My Swedish grandmother made the best pea soup on the planet. She fried a small pork chop for each bowl, added parsnips, celery, carrots and onions for a feast of Kings.

Many people have never heard of parsnips, and I haven’t seen any on the market here. They taste ever so sweet and yummy when fried in butter. This adds a richness to the pea soup that potatoes can’t.

My next painting -- provided by online Pastor friend from Africa

When I traveled throughout Germany and Austria many years ago, I noticed that pea soup was a staple. Instead of a pork chop, each bowl had a sausage floating. I felt right at home. This was the kind of fare I grew up on. My American friends searched everywhere for a McDonald’s to satisfy their craving for a hamburger while I lapped up my soup like a contented Cheshire cat.

Drawing is transferred to 11x24 canvas

In winter, soup warms your bones. In tough times, it fills your stomach. When there are many mouths to feed, you can thin and stretch soup to fill every hungry mouth. People, who turn their noses up at leftovers often slurp down every scrumptious bite of a flavorful soup; no matter that the ingredients may be leftovers hidden between stirs of a bubbling pot of melding flavors.

Soup is like life itself: a pinch of this, a dab of that, some bittersweet, some sugar, some spice mixed together with faith, hope and love. Simmering through the highs and lows, the combination becomes the essence of a life well lived; a life remembered.

Work in Progress -- "Release" (acrylic underpainting)

A painting withiin a painting

Is it any wonder that my favorite channel is the food channel? I believe people who can participate in “The Iron Chef” or decorate cakes with sculpted roses and present their dishes in royal style can match any artist's creativity. Come to think of it, the soup I’m cooking today is giving me inspiration. I see colorful shapes forming, values changing, and my imagination soaring just like it did over my alphabet soup when I was a kid.

Have you got brain freeze? Are your creative pipes stopped up with cold slush? Get back to basics and warm up with a bowl of hot homemade soup. Happy New Year everybody!

Note: The "work in progress" above has evolved from when I introduced it several blogs ago. Originally I had a monkey and another quote, but it gave the entire piece a "human origins" feel, and that was not my intention. I like the new quote by Joseph Campbell which gives the painting a more creative feel: "Art is the set of wings to carry you out of your own entanglements."  I will use oil painting on the orchid in the frame and anywhere else I feel the canvas needs a pick-me-up. The final piece will be titled: "Release"