Sometimes Groundhog Day offers you a surprise. Not that we are strangers to surprises in our yard. But still. I am beginning to wonder if I harp on the routine around here too much. And maybe I don’t always see the amazing and the unique when it passes me by. Maybe it takes a wild animal to clue me in. Maybe.
I was doing what I always do around 6:00pm – feeding my kids in the kitchen. Chicken, pasta, apple.
And I was saying the usual too.
“Sit in your seat, be sure to eat some apple too, I said SIT DOWN, would you like more milk… HOLY CRAP YOU GUYS THERE’S A BOBCAT!!!”
The next thing I said was…
“DUCK!” And we all ducked under the window.
I know how skittish these animals are. I’ve seen them before and have seen them bolt at any sign of human life (thank goodness considering… you know… my kids play back there everyday).
But I wanted a picture.
So I crawled over to my dining room table, snatched the camera out of my bag and peeked up out the window into my backyard. The bobcat was moving slowly up towards my house and would be passing the kitchen window in seconds. So we all scrambled back into the kitchen, giggling and anticipating. I froze with camera poised, the kids waited – and there it was. It froze too. Gave us this exact stare. And then scurried away.
Surprises. There’s nothing better. And maybe if I paid more attention to whats happening around me, I’d see more of them now and then. The little stuff and the big stuff can make a day more unique if you allow it to. Nothing like an afternoon bobcat to snap you out of it. Message received.
The winter of ‘95-’96 changed my perception of winter forever. I was a junior at Mount Holyoke College. And the snow kept coming. Mother Nature had programmed a pattern of massive two foot snow blizzards every Thursday afternoon. I remember the blizzards seemed at their worst while stuck in the dredges of February. As the heater would steam and clank and whistle in my room and as the science lab work piled up – I’d stare out at the silent white storm snow globing flakes up, down and across my window. And I had all sorts of crazy “I’m going to lose my ever loving mind” Shining-esque thoughts. I had finally found hate for winter.
That May – yes, it took three more long months – I stepped outside one morning. There was sun. And not only that, it warmed my face. WARMED MY FACE. I stopped, I closed my eyes, I tipped my face up. And I started to cry a little bit. Warmth, light, sun made that much of a difference. I will never forget what real, outside warm air felt like that morning as I took off down the hill sporting rumpled shorts worn a very distant 9 months prior.
Five years ago, my husband and I moved to Florida. It seemed almost a joke at the time. I mean come on. We found a job for him in Florida? Near my brother and offering a much cheaper cost of living (after spending two winters stuffed into crappy faculty housing with one bedroom and an 18 month old baby). We considered it an adventure. Sure we’ll go.
The years have gone by, we bought a home, we had another child, we are Floridians it seems. And it blows our minds that we are raising children with no concept of snow or real, freeze your eyelashes and bust your pipes kind of cold. (It doesn’t count if they can’t remember seeing snow, right?) Palm trees lining the streets have lost their novelty. I hardly look twice at the resident alligator sunning himself on the bank of a small lake I jog past regularly. Caribbean style beaches lined with tiki huts are an hour’s drive and Disney is less than two hours.
But it’s February, and I know. I read tweets, facebook updates, emails and hear from my loved ones. February is fricking miserable most other places in the U.S. Spring seems forever off. The snow keeps piling up and the sun won’t warm jack.
And you know what? I feel guilty.
I have somehow adopted a crazy kind of guilt complex regarding Florida weather. I LONGED for the everyday here when I lived north. Dreamt of it, wished for it, and drove to it over spring break. So now that we get it, all the time, oh my God. I just feel bad. I want to share it. I want everyone to come on down. I want to plunk every family member and wonderful friend in my backyard lounge chair and let the sun warm their faces. I want to heal their winter misery. I want to give what I get to them.
Snort. If I was reading this from my frozen dorm all those years ago, I kind of might want to kill me right now. Really. Isn’t that generous of little ol’ Floridian me? Oh how nice of me to even THINK of us northerners while we wish for power back in our homes, dole hundreds of dollars out the window for heating oil and try not to die on our icy commutes to work everyday.
And I think I’d be wishing that resident alligator might take a sudden liking to Floridian me as I ran past. Chomp chomp, palm tree bee-atch.
But then there are people who do come down for vacations and I breath a sigh of relief. Hurray! Ok! See? You can feel some warmth! Step right up. But then? When the weather is cold and rainy and the sun doesn’t warm jack, even in FLORIDA – I feel bad again. What the hell is this? People deserve to feel warm when they come down here. Come ON. If we get good weather most of the time, visitors should have a guaranteed pass! I find myself apologizing for 40 degree temps while pointing at my browned palms, insisting this isn’t natural, and to come back soon and see for yourself!
Because what warmth I feel on my face belongs to every suffering, wintered soul, sharpening their axes on the weather reports promising more snow, thinking how they will hack their way through their front doors, determined to find Spring while screaming “Here’s Johnny!!!” I so get it.
Uh-huh. Shut it, Caroline. Go back to your flip flops and boring palm trees. We don’t care how bad you feel for us.
Not that Florida is all that and a bag of key lime chips with a Corona chaser. Not that we don’t long for gorgeous fall days with crispy leaves or crackling fireplaces on Christmas Eve. Not that Florida’s sun makes up for the culture and family and roots we’ve left behind far far north of here.
And as my friend who recently moved from Florida to Chicago said to me only yesterday, “When spring comes, it will be wonderful and appreciated and I will never take good weather for granted again”. Because, we do here. And that’s not OK either.
Still we get sun and my loved ones don’t right now. So, still with the guilt.
I am probably somewhat certifiable to personally take responsibility for all the winter hate flaring within frozen hearts across our nation. Only I would need to apologize for the temperate norms which are predictable and expected for this little spot on the globe.
But I will never forget what winter means elsewhere.
And just wait. After a winter as hellish as this one (which has resulted in snow on the ground in 49 states), we’ll get ours with a whopper of hurricane which will rip out our electricity and make our roads impossible to drive on. Weather karma maybe?
Again with the guilt.
But how about I offer my lounge chair. To anyone. Anytime. I’m embarrassed to admit that I am rarely out there (the irony, I know – snow or sun, life is busy and doesn’t offer too many moments in a lounge chair) but you are more than welcome to stretch out and feel that sun we seem to have so much of.
Wishing February will pass quickly and there will be early spring warmth in all 49 states soon.
Post script: This one was close to being deleted. I swear my intentions are good, but no matter how much guilt I feel for sunshine in February, I can’t help but feel like this post comes across a tad… well… smug. Clearly, my guilty suffering is no match for any February up north. So just know that I know that. But I will leave it. Because I keep it real. And because after all that writing I hate to toss anything (which I really do need to learn how to do more often… that and fix the filter between my head and my mouth/writing).
Still shuffling about my morning, disheveled, glasses on, wanting my cereal and cringing at the sun suddenly streaming into my window, I went over to fiddle with the curtains.
When I heard a very loud WOOSH.
And when I looked up, this is what I saw moving quietly across the sky. I grabbed my camera and pushed open the sliding door and stood amazed. It felt so close I could have quietly said “good morning” and I am quite sure the two people inside that basket would have heard me. But I don’t really do mornings very well so all I did was snap this picture, watch it move by and go back inside.
I probably should have said “good morning”. That’s what you do when a hot air balloon passes over your backyard, isn’t it?
Peaceful, beautiful and just another side to my morning. So to speak.
While life for me has been holding steady, 2010 hasn’t exactly started out so well for the world at large. The loss and devastation in Haiti alone is enough to derail a year that has only just got its feet under it. Horrible, traumatizing, my heart is with the people trying to rebuild their lives. I am just one of millions: watching, mourning and utterly helpless.
And our country, well. The current politics, the unyielding process, the hold ups, the party issues on both sides… yeah, to say I am feeling a little disillusioned right now would be an understatement. Bleh.
So, as I go about my day and see my neighborhood – usually hearty with large palm leaves and sprawling green lawns – now brown and dead after those weeks of frost… Well. It certainly seems to fit.
The other day I was checking over my fave hibiscus plant. No matter how much I had it wrapped, it had not done well in that freeze. And that was no surprise either. Freezes in Florida kill plants. Forever. It’s a crap shoot what struggles back. And as I checked over my plant, I saw no bright blooms, no green left anywhere, just bare branches with a few remaining withered leaves holding on until the next stiff breeze . *Sigh*
Yesterday I happened to hear two fabulous bits of news that just might help 2010 regain a little footing. At least from where I stand. The news was about babies. One had been born and one has recently been made (no, certainly not mine – but its not my news to share so I’ll leave it at that). And that made me think back about my dearest friend who just had her beautiful baby on Christmas Eve. And another friend who had a horrid life-altering 2009 – but is finding joy from weeks of life beating inside also.
Life comes back.
And yesterday I also happened to look at my hibiscus again. Something caught my eye. A tiny small bit of green. New green. Only an inch in diameter, just arrived, waving at the world.
Well look at that. Perhaps Florida’s spring has arrived? Life indeed comes back.
There are certain things most of us don’t expect to see in our lifetimes. The sun rising in the west. Pigs flying. And snow falling in Florida.
Ok, so it was more like sleet.
I awoke very early Saturday morning to the strange sound of pinging and plunking in my kitchen. It was a sound I had never heard during my 5 years living in Florida. So I crept out to determine it’s cause. Yep, sleet was hitting the kitchen window. I stood there for a moment listening, trying to make my brain believe what I was hearing. Minutes later my three year old found his way into our bed claiming the noise was caused by “witches and ghosts” outside his window. This sound was clearly new to him too.
However, I know sudden frozen pricipitation in Florida is only a big deal because its a novelty. Not because any of this deserves a lick of sympathy. I mean really. Temperatures are expected to climb into the 70s later this week. Poor us.
But a novelty it is. Floridians are shamelessly all blown away. While plants and grass wither under its frozen hand, we are peering out from our chilly homes, snapping pictures and calling our families up north (however, still unable to impress any of them).
Here are some pictures my brother took in Orlando. I really had nothing to show for the sleet here in Tampa other than wet sidewalks and puffs of breath which astounded my children. But he did. So I’m ripping off his pics and posting them here.
My six year old peered out too, seemingly questioning his own resolve. He thought for a moment and then said, “Mommy, why is it cold when the sun is out?”
“I dunno baby. It just is. …Well, actually, the sun is further from us in the winter time, so its not warming us as well.”
Blank stare. Maybe he was trying to make sense of what I meant. Maybe he already knew about our planet’s rotation. Maybe he thought I was utterly insane to be dreaming up such crap.
“My hands are going to be cold you know…”
“I know. I don’t have any gloves. …How about some socks?”
Again with the blank stare. I’ll take that as a no.
“Hey, I know what will keep you warm! How about a scarf?!” (Now there’s a novelty.) ” Scarves always keep me extra toasty.” I pulled the one I was wearing off, already feeling a chill. “Try this on.”
“Um… its a little… scratchy…” Wow. I thought about it and I wasn’t even sure he had ever worn a scarf before.
“Ok!” I said snapping it back from him and re-wrapping it around my neck, “Let’s find you one that’s less scratchy.”
So, after fumbling around in my closet, I found one. Perfect. Nice and big and warm. A pashmina. I tied it around and around his neck, helped him into his coat and baseball hat and, with a giggle, he pulled open the door and went out to brave the high 40 degree weather.
This, my friends, is how we handle harsh, unforgiving Florida winters.
The shame.
Don’t you understand people? I lived in Massachusetts for 12 years. 12 years of snowdrifts blown up past my windows, gray skies and gray earth, bone-rattling, skin chapping wind, and days that if they hit double digits were considered “balmy”. While pregnant with this very same six year old, I remember scrambling up over 6 foot piles of snow to get into the street so that I could catch my bus. I knew winter. I lived winter. I ate it for breakfast.
And now look at me.
These past few nights, the temperatures have dared to dip below freezing and Florida folks – which includes your truly – have got their flip flops in a bunch.
Do you know what happens when it gets below freezing here? People wrap up their plants. I’m not kidding. They pull all their bedding out and then clothes pin blankets and sheets around their delicate palms and banana trees. The guy across the street from me has this insane contraption set up right now. He has pinned together a tent over his palm and has placed a ladder underneath with a heating lap attached to it and cords running all over the yard for power. That sucker is on all night, willing those fragile leaves not to freeze.
And any plants I could possibly bring indoors, I have.
NOT THE PLANTS, SPARE THE SWEET INNOCENT SUCCULENT PLANTS!
However rightly so, the fruit growers are in a panic. They spend nights maintaining the sprinklers so that a thin coat of ice forms on the oranges and strawberries and other native yummies – the ice keeps their temperatures at freezing. Any lower and the fruits will be lost which is BAD news for our farmers.
I heard about these iguanas a little further south of here that are falling from the trees, in a metabolically frozen state. But, if you read the linked article, warnings have been issued asking Floridians not to pick up these iguanas because once they warm up enough, they will spring to life very quickly. I guess some guy went around collecting them, putting them in his truck, when they all revived themselves and crawled all over him while he was driving.
On the news this morning, I heard about sea turtles that have been washing up, in the same frozen state as those iguanas, unable to move from the cold. They are being picked up and brought to aquariums so that they aren’t harmed. I can practically see the collective “WTF” thought bubbles floating above their little turtle heads.
There was frost on the grass the other morning. My kids were wide-eyed. I was wide-eyed. My husband, also wide-eyed, took kick-ass pictures of said frost. He who spent his entire childhood in Connecticut, waking early for outdoor hockey practices. He too was amazed by this wondrous, frosty frost.
And yes we have heat in our homes – but it is hardly efficient. It haphazardly blasts away into these cavernous homes which were designed to keep homes cool with vaulted ceilings, tile and wood floors and open floor plans. So we are bundled under the few remaining blankets (not already pinned around our outdoor plants), wrapped in pashminas, cowering in homes that just don’t DO cold.
Back to those pashminas. You should see my cold wardrobe. WAY out of date sweaters and cheezy jackets that were cool in 1999 (a DECADE ago). No gloves (but we do have socks), no hats (well, not the warm kind, just the keep sun off your face kind), one decent scarf that my mother in law JUST sent me for Christmas and a pile of pashminas. Oh and my husband has an AWESOME collection of “Cosby sweaters” with bright bold colors and patterns circa 1993. My kids have some jeans and sweaters and one good fleece each – but we’re doing a hell of a lot of laundry in these parts.
Because why would I buy a winter wardrobe? This will be over in a matter of weeks. So we’ll tough it out. Because we’re stoic like that. Your sympathy and understanding are much appreciated.
*Holding hands over warm laptop keyboard*
We’ll get through this.
*Shuddering sigh*
Somehow.
So yeah. Winter in Florida is simply a bit silly. We are so used to avoiding heat that we aren’t sure where to find it when we actually need it.
I heard it might snow tonight in the Orlando area. As I stare out into the bitter night, I’ll be keeping my eyes peeled for pigs flying by too.
(But for real though. You want to see REAL winter? Drop on by my friend Becky’s blog at Deep Muck, Big Rake and check out her pictures of life in Iowa. She used to be a Tampa resident and moved north over a year ago. Floridians rally. They do. When they absolutely -ugh, I guess I have to put the flip flops back in the closet- HAVE to. Stay warm Becky. You make us proud!)
A couple years ago, when I still considered myself new to Florida, I noticed something quite fascinating happening out my window while I was decorating my Christmas tree.
It looked like we were having a snow flurry.
Was this a Christmas miracle? But we were in shorts, the sliding door was open, it was balmy as usual, how could this be?
And then I looked more closely and realized the “flurries” were something else, something from a local plant, flying through the air. But that was ok. Because if I didn’t look right at it while I focused on tree decorating, I could kind of sort of pretend it was a flurry outside. And the music playing in the background seemed to make just a little more sense. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
We’ll take what we can get, flurries with our shorts on.
I decided to tape these flurries this year. Enjoy Florida’s version of a “White Christmas”.
While the Lowry Park Zoo graciously offered me a day’s pass for my family to be guests at the Koala exhibit opening yesterday, I let them know I was planning to attend anyway. We love this zoo and happened to buy a family pass a few weeks ago anyway. We were thrilled to have another reason to roll in there.
The boys and I arrived at 10:30 that morning – fired up to meet Bundaleer the Koala . Honestly, though? Upon arrival, my kids took one look at the crowds gathered around the exhibit and then at the sprayground calling their name. Not surprisingly, their enthusiasm to see Bundaleer faded a bit. But before I unleashed them into those fun fountains, I had them watch the ribbon cutting and check out the cool koala cake before I set them free. And then I did. It made sense to to wait for the crowds, news cameras and throngs of strollers to thin a bit before we went over to say hello. So they ran and jumped and sprayed and spun and giggled in the water while I listened to a wonderful diggeree doo player and watched various handlers introduce interesting animals to zoo goers wandering by.
We eventually made our way over to meet the sweet grey furry bundle of Bundaleer. He was very cute. But I don’t think he realized how much commotion was being made over him. Acting very “koala-ish”, we found him sleeping off some of the 23 hours a day that they generally snooze, curled up behind a clump of eucalyptus. Luckily, a handler happened to go in right then so Bundaleer woke up a bit so I got a picture. They are adorable animals and Bundaleer makes a great addition to an already very fun Australian section of the zoo. Oh and check out his adoring crowds in the reflection!
After soaking themselves on the sprayground one more time, we spent the rest of the morning visiting animals. And finally wound up having snacks watching the rhinos in the “Africa” section before heading home. My boys cracked me up as they acted out the emotions of “grumpy” and “happy” for the camera (see below). It was a great day at the zoo for sure.
I get an adult night out tonight. That’s right. Stop the presses. Morningside Mom is actually going to be child free for an evening. And its going to be all about fun and games. What game specifically? Well, my bad ass sister (in law technically, but shes my girl, my sister) has hooked us up with some tickets to game five of Magic – Lakers finals game!
Lets all take a moment and do the running man. Oh yeah. And now the cabbage patch. Ok, bust out the sprinkler.
I am fired up!
Ok, I’ll fess up. I am no massive, crazy basketball fan. It was my brother who had all the Jordan and Pipen posters on his wall growing up. It’s my brother who seems near weeping when he calls me with reports of seeing Magic Johnson at a Magic game or getting a picture with Rashard Lewis.
But now, with my sister working for the Magic and both she and my brother going to every game, and us finally watching from home – our family is officially a Magic family.
And now we get to go to the game.
BECAUSE LET ME TELL YOU, I need this night out. My three year old has driven me to the edge of insanity this weekend. We’re talking 1 1/2 hour screaming rages and time outs. Stubborn refusals to share. Blatant toy taking and train track smashing. Hitting. Screeeaming. Flipping the frock out.
Even sitting at the edge of my seat during a nail biting finals game (which, if it ends badly, could mean the Lakers winning the finals) is nothing compared to the frustration of corralling my three year old. Nothing I tell you.
So in a couple hours, my Magic Superman Dwight Howard shirt is getting slipped on and I’ll wave giddily to the sitter as we peel out of here for a parents night out. At game five of the Magic Laker’s. Not too shabby.
Oh and I almost forgot. While my sister and I were out buying our Magic gear, we ran into a rock star mom. And who would that be? None other than Dwight Howard’s mother walking through the Magic store checking out the gear. I spoke to her briefly, she was so nice, a lovely woman. A very cool moment indeed.
But I also took it as a sign. I mean, this mother didn’t have Superman as her son always. I am thinking Dwight was once three years old too and I bet Dwight had his fair share of time outs. And now here she is, walking through a store displaying racks of shirts with her son’s name on them, beaming with pride. I take it as a sign that my son will get through three someday too. Whether his name is on the back of a t-shirt or not, I think I will find myself beaming with pride at his accomplishments – and these groundhog days of timeouts and tantrums will be long forgotten.
I take seeing her as another sign too. That mother’s need nights out with the Magic too. Moms can rock Magic pride. So. I am.
As you all know, sometimes Blogging has its benefits. And while I hardly blog for those few and far between benefits alone, I love ‘em when I get ‘em. And what perk came my way this weekend? A free afternoon at the Florida Aquarium for Tampa bloggers, tweeters and social media folk alike.
So with a gleeful kick of my heels, I packed my two boys and willing husband into the car spouting promises of lots and lots of fishies. “It will be better than the fishies in the aquariums at Walmart!” Oh. Ok. Now THAT got their attention. Better than Walmart fishies? They were IN.
When we were arrived, we were escorted into a conference room filled with fellow social media peeps. They too had brought their families, so we milled about and kept our kids from reaching into the lone fishtank found at the front of the room. After some welcomes and introductions, the Florida Aquarium staff brought out a few beasties to check out: one snake and one small gator. I felt right at home while my 6 year old waited patiently to pet each.
Next we walked out into the Aquarium and spent well over an hour walking from tank to tank. I appreciate how they have laid out the Aquarium. Visitors start in the Wetlands and meet the sort of wildlife you might find in your own Florida back yard (alligators, turtles, otters, birds and the rest). And as you walk through each exhibit and move through various stages of water, you experience the underwater wildlife you might find in mangrove swamps off the Florida coast or in the deep waters of the gulf.
My children were besides themselves with glee. They ran from tank to tank to tank to tank. “Look at this one Mommy!” “WHOA! Mommy, Daddy, look at THIIIIS!!!” They got to touch star fish, climb on displays, interact with educational technology, step over sharks and play under schools of fish. We all came to a screeching halt and were mesmerized by the floor to ceiling panoramic window displaying an enormous tank full of fish. The kids loved watching a diver interact with and take questions from visitors.
A highlight was certainly the penguin encounter. While I had to hold back my two year old by the scruff of his shirt (“I wub it mommy, I wub penguin, I wanna huuuugggg!!!”), my 6 yo listened intently to the Penguin handler. He promptly reported back to me what he learned later too: “Did you know penguins can poop 4 ft. away!?!” That’s great, babe.
We had a wonderful visit. The staff there were phenomenal. The vibe was child-friendly and relaxing. (That being said even though we never even made it out to the Caribbean Cantina tiki bar or splash park for kids set up out back.)
My only frustration? It is expensive to go very often unless you invest in a pass. Adults are $20.00 and children are $14.95 each. However, an annual pass is $140 (which includes parking) and is probably worth the investment if you and your children do love underwater wildlife and think you might like to visit the aquarium and their splash park more often.
Many thanks to Tampa Bloggers and the Florida Aquarium (on twitter at @floridaaquarium) for a fabulous family afternoon with Florida wildlife!
So, after fumbling around in my closet, I found one. Perfect. Nice and big and warm. A pashmina. I tied it around and around his neck, helped him into his coat and baseball hat and, with a giggle, he pulled open the door and went out to brave the high 40 degree weather.
Do you know what happens when it gets below freezing here? People wrap up their plants. I’m not kidding. They pull all their bedding out and then clothes pin blankets and sheets around their delicate palms and banana trees. The guy across the street from me has this insane contraption set up right now. He has pinned together a tent over his palm and has placed a ladder underneath with a heating lap attached to it and cords running all over the yard for power. That sucker is on all night, willing those fragile leaves not to freeze.
While the Lowry Park Zoo graciously offered me a day’s pass for my family to be guests at the Koala exhibit opening yesterday, I let them know I was planning to attend anyway. We love this zoo and happened to buy a family pass a few weeks ago anyway. We were thrilled to have another reason to roll in there.
The boys and I arrived at 10:30 that morning – fired up to meet Bundaleer the Koala . Honestly, though? Upon arrival, my kids took one look at the crowds 
gathered around the exhibit and then at the sprayground calling their name. Not surprisingly, their enthusiasm to see Bundaleer faded a bit. But before I unleashed them into those fun fountains, I had them watch the ribbon cutting and check out the cool koala cake before I set them free. And then I did. It made sense to to wait for the crowds, news cameras and throngs of strollers to thin a bit before we went over to say hello.
So they ran and jumped and sprayed and spun and giggled in the water while I listened to a wonderful diggeree doo player and watched various handlers introduce interesting animals to zoo goers wandering by.
When we were arrived, we were escorted into a conference room filled with fellow social media peeps. They too had brought their families, so we milled about and kept our kids from reaching into the lone fishtank found at the front of the room. After some welcomes and introductions, the Florida Aquarium staff brought out a few beasties to check out: one snake and one small gator. I felt right at home while my 6 year old waited patiently to pet each.
My children were besides themselves with glee. They ran from tank to tank to tank to tank. “Look at this one Mommy!” “WHOA! Mommy, Daddy, look at THIIIIS!!!” They got to touch star fish, climb on displays, interact with educational technology, step over sharks and play under schools of fish. We all came to a screeching halt and were mesmerized by the floor to ceiling panoramic window displaying an enormous tank full of fish. The kids loved watching a diver interact with and take questions from visitors.
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