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Read MoreIt's autumn in Florida!
Read MoreTampa's Ybor City has a rich multi-cultural history, festivals, arts, entertainment and chickens!
Read MoreAre you looking for something interesting to put on your holiday gift list? Adult tricycles are becoming more popular for the boomer generation.
Unlike the trikes we rode when we were toddlers, adult trikes have three wheels that are all the same size. Most adult trikes have a sizable basket in the back. That’s my favorite part. I use that basket for laundry, tarot cards, musical instruments, and anything else you can imagine.
I first noticed adult trikes when we moved to Florida. Immediately I knew I wanted one. As I did some research, I learned that the adult tricycle is not a new phenomenon. In fact, I spent $5 at a yard sale to buy the carcass of a “Western Flyer” from the 1950s.
After much consideration, I decided it would be easier to get a brand new trike than to try to rehabilitate the antique Western Flyer.
There are a surprising number of adult trikes from which to choose, and seemingly more on the market every day. You can get a three-speed, a six-speed or a fixie. You can get wheel sizes from 20 inches to 26 inches. You can even get a canopy to shade you from the fierce Florida sun as you pedal to your water aerobics class.
The trike I chose for my first trike (yes, there will be others) is a Schwinn Meridian in Wild Cherry Red. I understand these are very popular in third-world countries for basic transportation to work. We could learn a lot from third world ingenuity.
We ordered the trike online, so it needed assemby. In the picture, you can see my dear husband added some bows and balloons to his stellar assembly job. The trike was waiting to great me when I arrived home from my trip to Connecticut.
It is also possible to purchase high-end trikes from bike shops. The top of the line is the Miami Sun, but there is a wide range of other options, too.
Adult trikes are perfect for those who need to carry more than a two-wheeler will allow. They are also great for folks whose sense of balance isn’t quite what it used to be.
For fun, transportation and exercise, the adult trike makes a lot of sense!
Here in Florida, “season” is much more important than “the seasons.” Season begins as the weather turns cooler. Folks start arriving from Canada, Michigan, New York, Ohio and all points north. Florida roads have almost as many RVs on them as they do cars.
Season doesn’t come in to full swing until January, but there is a moment when the seasonal season and the holiday season coincide. Christmas barbeques and holiday boat parades become the order of the day. Colored lights wrap around palm trees, and people wear their Santa hats to the beach.
In the years I contemplated making the move from the Northeast to Florida, I wondered how the holiday season would be, in a land that doesn’t snow. It turns out, we have snowfall events that feature soapflake snow and ice skating on plastic “ice”. We even ironically wear sweaters that say “Let it Snow.”
As the snowbirds arrive to begin our Florida winter season, the excitement in the air is palpable. There are stories to share, friendships to renew and people to meet.
There is a whole season of activities to plan; the first of which involve the celebration of the holidays, Florida style.
This is my seventh holiday season in Florida. I’ve been to Winter Solstice drum circles on the beach, and celebrated the New Year by jumping into the ocean. I’ve eaten Christmas Dinner on a picnic table.
It’s not the holiday season of my youth, and hot chocolate doesn’t have the same allure when it’s not freezing out, but I’ll take it.
If you need me, I’ll be stringing colored lights on my adult-sized tricycle, getting reading for the holiday golf cart parade.
After moving to Florida, my family started joking that avocados were the “zucchini of the South.” Up north, at a certain time of year, people’s gardens produce so many zucchinis they have a hard time finding homes for all of them.
As it turns out, avocados are only one of the luscious treats that literally fall from the sky here in Florida. We also have loquats, mangos, coconuts, carambola, and papaya.
Just the other day I ate a papaya that I grew myself. In my front yard is a papaya tree laden with fruit. When we first moved here a little over a year ago, a neighbor gave me a small papaya tree – just a stick to put in the ground, really. I made my daughter’s boyfriend dig the hole for it. I didn’t expect much.
Now I see what a gift a fruit tree really is. The tree has grown tall and is producing shade, fruit, and admiration from the neighbors.
I actually didn’t have the courage to eat the fruit myself. I am trained to only eat things that come from stores. My friend was happy to try one of my papaya for breakfast. When it didn’t kill her, I decided it was worth a shot.
I am sure there was a time in history when most people had the experience of eating something we grew with our own hands. Now, this is a rare thing for many of us.
The sense of satisfaction and connection to the great cycle of life that comes from eating food directly from the tree is immense.
Here in Florida, we have corrupt politicians and crazy news stories. We also have food that grows year round in our yards. Living in Florida can be a struggle in some ways. There are things, like papaya trees, that seem to make it worthwhile.
Here in Florida we have a lot of really large birds. The sand hill cranes, many of whom migrate here from Missouri, are some of my favorites.
A few weeks ago, I stoped to take a picture of a pair of sand hill cranes. Then, they began their mating dance. I was happy to catch some of it on video.
I am not usually the person who has the presence of mind to snap a picture or take a video when something interesting happens, so this was a really nice moment for me.
I hope you enjoy this as much as I did!
Video of Dancing Sand Hill Cranes, Lutz FL
It’s Election Day. First thing this morning, I walked to the polls to cast my vote for Mosquito Control Commissioner. There were other things on the ballot, too. Jon Stewart has been having a field day with our gubernatorial contest here in Florida; I can’t say I blame him.
Election Day is always somewhat romantic for me. I remember being a child and accompanying my mother in the old-fashioned voting booth. I remember her telling me about the sacred duty that I too, would one day have.
I brought my son to vote with me. He votes now. The other day he told me that young people would decide the future of Florida. It was a proud moment.
My son votes early. Most of my friends use the mail-in ballot now. I appreciate the shorter lines at the polls.
There is something about Election Day, about the actual process of coming together with my community to cast our ballots, which feels sacred to me.
It freaks me out when people chose not to vote. They often take an air of moral superiority, suggesting that the process is so broken they don’t want to sully themselves by participating in it.
I live in Florida. Believe me; I know the system is broken.
However, staying away from the polls won’t fix the problems. Staying away from the polls only makes the problems worse.
Yes, people died fighting for my right to choose between Rick Scott and Charlie Crist. It’s a sad state of affairs.
But it’s sadder still when people chose not to participate.
One of the great things about living in Florida is the ability to garden all year long. Of course, this is only my first year as a gardener, but I have already had some great successes.
It occurred to me that, at this point, I have yet to actually buy a plant. All of my current plants are propagated from plants that other people didn’t want or couldn’t take care of.
Some of my plants were here when I got here. There were two straggly hibiscus bushes in front of our house. At one time they might have been lovely. When I inherited them they looked hopeless. In fact, my neighbors told me they were hopeless.
It was more that I didn’t want the hassle of removing them that made me nurture them. I didn’t have any real love for them. I like unusual plants, and red hibiscus is pretty common here in Florida. They are also messy plants; they drop a lot of leaves.
Even though I was motivated by laziness and unenthusiastic about the flowers, I nurtured the hibiscus for almost a year. I pruned and fed, and waited.
As little as a month ago I was telling my neighbor I was getting ready to get rid of them. They just weren’t worth the trouble. But I didn’t give up. I continued to nurture them.
This morning they greeted me with huge, healthy blooms. They’ve boomed before, but the blossoms were sparse and small. Today’s blossoms are magnificent.
I learn so much from gardening. Today I learned that, regardless of the initial motivation, diligence and patience pays off. I learned, too, that even common things can be uniquely beautiful. I learned that health and beauty go hand in hand. I also learned not to give up easily on living things. We can often respond to nurturance. Sometimes it just takes a while!
It feels silly to speak or write about the weather, but here’s the thing. At great time and trouble I uprooted myself, my business and my family to move from the Northeast to Florida for exactly two reasons – the sun and the ocean. I wanted to be in a place called “The Sunshine State.” For me it is all about the weather. Call me shallow. I do poorly at seasonal adaptation.
Over the past few weeks it has been unseasonably cold here in Florida. I realize this is no state of emergency when compared with the health and financial risks associated with the polar vortex in other parts of the country.
There are some Floridians who refer to temps in the forties and fifties as “glorious” and “lovely.” I am not one of them.
But I did hear a term that made me feel better about having to bundle up for the bonfire drum circle and to do tarot readings at the ironically-on-the-coldest-day-of-the-year Snowbird Appreciation Festival at a neighboring Tampa Bay community.
The term is “Fuzzy Cloak Weather.”
Many like-minded northerners have sought shelter from the cold, sleet, ice and snow here in Florida. With us we brought only the very best of our cold weather clothes – the ones we wore at festivals, circles and fairs. Having to mothball those gorgeous and expensive capes, cloaks, robes, boots, hoods, and wraps made of wool, satin and velvet was perhaps the only downside of moving to Florida.
This past Friday I was going to skip the drum circle. It was just too cold to sit outside, drum and dance. Then I remembered it. It’s fuzzy cloak weather! I’d been to drum circles in colder weather up north, and had a great time.
Sure enough, around the blazing fire I found my friends in beautiful hand-knit sweaters, flowing velvet scarves and colorful hats. It was so warm close to the fire I could take off my faux fur to dance.
Anyone who says we don’t have seasons in Florida has never spent a year here. After six years I am beginning to feel attuned to the Wheel of the Year in Florida. We don’t have a time of scarcity and a time of plenty. There is no urgency to celebrate our survival. Food grows all year, but changes with the seasons. Basic parts of the environment, such as light and water, change through the seasons.
Up until this year I have dreaded having to wear winter gear. Some winters are colder than others, but never for more than a few days at a time, and rarely colder than forty degrees. Some years the winter gear – even the fuzzy cloak itself – never comes out at all.
This year I am in the Tampa Bay area. Here it is often ten degrees color than where I was in South Florida. Although I love it here, the drop in temperature is not an advantage.
At the same time, I am relatively at peace with frigid Florida for the first time. Sometimes the cooler temps make a bonfire more fun! Perhaps it’s a blessing to wear our fabulous winter gear and remember that we once knew how to have good times in cold weather.
We can do that in Florida, too.