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Posted by Hawker on 22:21:52 11/05/07
After smuggling two bottles of vermouth and a fifth of 18 year old Chivas into the building, I sprung Big Ma (my mom) from the joint (her cozy Assisted Living Facility) at two sharp this afternoon. I promised her high adventure and she was game.
Ma isn t as fleet of foot as she once was, so we stuffed her collapsible wheelchair into the trunk and beat it down the road to Green Cay. When we arrived at the entrance I quickly snapped open her wheels and we began our desperate journey down the boardwalk to the left. We got her binoculars adjusted and immediately came upon twelve red-bellied turtles, an anhinga drying in the sun, a wood stork feeding along with a great egret, plus moorhens and a tricolor. We progressed only slightly forward when a blue winged teal barely cleared guard rail right in front of us, scaring off a perched cormorant.
The action was coming fast but Ma hung tough. I was getting scared; things were happening way too quickly for my taste. We got to the cypress island which held mottled ducks and confusing fall warblers (at least one was a palm.) No sooner than we had gotten to other side of the island when we espied a fine, sunning alligator with its maw agape, while nine black-bellied whistlers flapping nosily overhead.
Once she got the hang of bringing the binoculars to where she was looking Ma was finding animals and plants everywhere: purple gallinules and fire flag, beauty berries and butterflies, dahoon and mockers.
She was fully of questions and observations, Who built this place? Palm Beach County did a wonderful job. There is so much here. What s that perched up one the top of the dead tree? (It was a red- shoulder.) Oh yeah I see the ospreys now. When can we come back? Isn t great that they made this place? It looks like Florida did when I moved here 60 years ago.
We saw bandana of the everglades, blue hearts and dragonflies; asters, spider lilies and kestrels. Limpkins cried and snatched apple snails only a few feet away, while kingfishers cackled above us.
It had been a taxing hour and it was time to return to the AFL.
Back in her room, I took the chilled vermouth out of the fridge, poured 3 ounces of the Chivas into an ice filled glass along with 1 ounce of Martini and Rossi sweet, and an ounce of Noilly Pratt dry, stirred it, strained it, and poured it into two old fashion glasses. It was a Rob Roy Perfect. A drink from the 1930 s when south Florida was young and still had its pioneering spirit.
We clicked glasses and I toasted, Thanks Ma for moving to Florida, I can t even imagine growing up in some cold, concrete northern city. This place with all its faults can still be a paradise if we want work at it.
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