March 22, 2015 § 4 Comments
Suddenly it is summer, that season as warm and damp and rich as a slice of red velvet cake.
Summer already? Not by the calendar, which tripped over the official start of spring just two days ago.
But here in Tallahassee we hit ninety during the last week of winter. Then did it again. And again.
Ninety in March is how we do spring in Florida.
Winter retreated and advanced many times before dragging its sorry self off the field.
Spring flirted with us, encouraging shirtsleeves one day, then vanishing, leaving us scraping ice off windshields and shoveling a late snow.
January 1, 2013 § 11 Comments
I was in Pearl River, New York, weed-skinny, and casting a modest shadow, but aspiring toward the sky.
Here in Tallahassee, surrounded by just-built stucco cottages intended to house the officers of Mabry Airfield, the young live oaks were doing the same.
We were all brand spanking new then: me, the houses, and the live oaks.