Took a jaunt up to Dade City, about 3 hours north and west, to visit my sister-in-law, Jackie. I forget how lovely that part of Florida is. It's sort of rolling. Yes, yes, I know it's Florida and Florida is flat, but up there it's sort of rolling. I would not go so far as to call them hills, but the land has some curves. There are large meadows/pastures dotted with magnificent live oaks showing off their sturdy trunks, horizontal limbs large enough to sleep on, and their satisfyingly rounded crowns. I remember that in spring these meadows are literally covered with wild phlox in multiple colors. We don't get that as far south as Indian River County.
On the way up we (Debra and I) went through Plant City. I suppose it's the closest thing I have to a home town, although I feel little affection for it. Now, I hardly recognize any of it. At the center of downtown there are still some of the old buildings that I remember. None of them serve the same purpose they did when I was a kid. We drove past Tomlin, the old junior high, now sitting empty for many years. It's situated in what's probably the best neighborhood in town. I remember treacherous bicycling on those little brick streets, especially in the rain. Bricks can be very slippery. The houses are grande olde Victorian dames and oaks dripping with Spanish moss line and cover the street. The perfect picture of what many see when they think of the south, but not what they see when they think of Florida. I'm the same, when I think of Florida I see beaches, palms, hibiscus. It made me smile to see that little bit of my past.
When we got to Jackie & Buddy's my brother-in-law, Marty and his two daughters, were also there. I met Marty, and Jackie, at the same time I met my husband, while attending USF. So we had a little trip down memory lane, remembering those we knew, those we still know, and especially those who have passed on. We told stories and embroidered them quite prettily and naturally, remarked on how the politics of then (60's) seems to have returned. We are all very concerned about ecology and the ruination of our only lifeboat.
Jackie and Buddy have a plant nursery focusing on Coontie, Zamia pumila, a true Florida native. There seems to be quite a lot of disagreement here about just what constitutes a Florida native plant. The majority rule seems to be anything growing here before Columbus. Many of the plants commonly associated with Florida, and many that have naturalized here, are not natives. Hibiscus-not. Most of the varieties of Palm-not. Bougainvillea-not. Citrus-not. Gardenia-not. The not list just goes on and on. Coontie however is a definite native. It's been here ever since there was a Florida. Seminole and the natives before them dug the root and pounded it into a starchy flour for breads. In the mid 1800's Coontie processing plants abounded for extracting starch from the roots for use in Arrowroot Biscuits or Cookies. Coonties almost disappeared under that pressure.
It's a pretty plant that looks like a leather leaf kind of fern, or like a loose Sago palm. It's neither palm nor fern, but cycad, grandmother of all plants. Cycads ruled when the dinosaurs roamed. It's like growing a piece of pre-history. They max out at about 4'x4', are tough, tough, tough (as you would expect a plant that outlived the dinosaur) and are the only host plant for the Atala Hairstreak butterfly. See some Coontie at Jackie & Buddy's site: http://www.ducklakeonline.com/.
Atala were considered extinct in the 1960's, but were rediscovered a few years later. Their numbers had been depleted by the disappearance of the coontie. They are black with white spots, two bright red spots, plus, a few dark blue spots on the undersides of their wings. They've been somewhat re-established in Dade County and Palm Beach and there have been sightings as far north as Indian River County (us) and Brevard (one county north).
Jackie and Buddy were kind enough to give me six coontie. I might get to see one of those local butterflies. I'm situating them right outside the pool enclosure in order to get my best shot at it. Jackie also gave me a large clump of a "native lilly", might be white or pale pink; and two huge clumps of a six foot ginger with red cones and edible flowers. I shared all this with my sister, Carla, who is as big a plant whore as I am.
On the way home Debra and I took a little jog to find the Crystal Springs where we spent many hot summer days and nights swimming, fishing, and camping. Way back in the day there would be no more than two other families there, and often we were the only people there. The last time I went, when I was still in college, they had put a fence around it and charged people to get in, and it was packed. People apparently don't value that which is free and or not yet discovered.
We knew that we would probably be unable to get in. Apparently it has gone through quite a few changes over the years. We went down this little road until it made a curve to the right. Right after the curve, on the left hand side, was the place where we used to drive into the springs. Now it has a big fence, covered with bamboo stuff, and a sign that says "No trespassing".
"That's it," I said to Debra. "No, it's not," she says. "We would be able to see the actual springs now." A few feet farther on are big, bright, blue gates that say "Crystal Springs Preserve". They're locked, but a sign behind them says they accommodate tours and buses. It's pretty clear that nobody swims, fishes, or camps there any more, but you can arrange to look at it.
The next stop was just outside Plant City again, for strawberries. Plant City is the Winter Strawberry Capital of the World and the season is just starting. It's kinda ironic. I went to most of my school years in Plant City, and for the past 35 years I've lived in California in a town that considers itself the Strawberry Capital of the World. But, summer is it's big season. In Florida, everyone looks for Plant City berries--they're considered far and away the best. Watsonville's big berry reputation rests on the name of one huge grower, developer, genetic engineer, Driscoll. In California, people don't look for Watsonville berries, but for Driscoll berries. I've seen Driscoll berries in New York. Conversely I was always told that Plant City berries were sold big time to go to Europe!
On the way up we (Debra and I) went through Plant City. I suppose it's the closest thing I have to a home town, although I feel little affection for it. Now, I hardly recognize any of it. At the center of downtown there are still some of the old buildings that I remember. None of them serve the same purpose they did when I was a kid. We drove past Tomlin, the old junior high, now sitting empty for many years. It's situated in what's probably the best neighborhood in town. I remember treacherous bicycling on those little brick streets, especially in the rain. Bricks can be very slippery. The houses are grande olde Victorian dames and oaks dripping with Spanish moss line and cover the street. The perfect picture of what many see when they think of the south, but not what they see when they think of Florida. I'm the same, when I think of Florida I see beaches, palms, hibiscus. It made me smile to see that little bit of my past.
When we got to Jackie & Buddy's my brother-in-law, Marty and his two daughters, were also there. I met Marty, and Jackie, at the same time I met my husband, while attending USF. So we had a little trip down memory lane, remembering those we knew, those we still know, and especially those who have passed on. We told stories and embroidered them quite prettily and naturally, remarked on how the politics of then (60's) seems to have returned. We are all very concerned about ecology and the ruination of our only lifeboat.
Jackie and Buddy have a plant nursery focusing on Coontie, Zamia pumila, a true Florida native. There seems to be quite a lot of disagreement here about just what constitutes a Florida native plant. The majority rule seems to be anything growing here before Columbus. Many of the plants commonly associated with Florida, and many that have naturalized here, are not natives. Hibiscus-not. Most of the varieties of Palm-not. Bougainvillea-not. Citrus-not. Gardenia-not. The not list just goes on and on. Coontie however is a definite native. It's been here ever since there was a Florida. Seminole and the natives before them dug the root and pounded it into a starchy flour for breads. In the mid 1800's Coontie processing plants abounded for extracting starch from the roots for use in Arrowroot Biscuits or Cookies. Coonties almost disappeared under that pressure.
It's a pretty plant that looks like a leather leaf kind of fern, or like a loose Sago palm. It's neither palm nor fern, but cycad, grandmother of all plants. Cycads ruled when the dinosaurs roamed. It's like growing a piece of pre-history. They max out at about 4'x4', are tough, tough, tough (as you would expect a plant that outlived the dinosaur) and are the only host plant for the Atala Hairstreak butterfly. See some Coontie at Jackie & Buddy's site: http://www.ducklakeonline.com/.
Atala were considered extinct in the 1960's, but were rediscovered a few years later. Their numbers had been depleted by the disappearance of the coontie. They are black with white spots, two bright red spots, plus, a few dark blue spots on the undersides of their wings. They've been somewhat re-established in Dade County and Palm Beach and there have been sightings as far north as Indian River County (us) and Brevard (one county north).
Jackie and Buddy were kind enough to give me six coontie. I might get to see one of those local butterflies. I'm situating them right outside the pool enclosure in order to get my best shot at it. Jackie also gave me a large clump of a "native lilly", might be white or pale pink; and two huge clumps of a six foot ginger with red cones and edible flowers. I shared all this with my sister, Carla, who is as big a plant whore as I am.
On the way home Debra and I took a little jog to find the Crystal Springs where we spent many hot summer days and nights swimming, fishing, and camping. Way back in the day there would be no more than two other families there, and often we were the only people there. The last time I went, when I was still in college, they had put a fence around it and charged people to get in, and it was packed. People apparently don't value that which is free and or not yet discovered.
We knew that we would probably be unable to get in. Apparently it has gone through quite a few changes over the years. We went down this little road until it made a curve to the right. Right after the curve, on the left hand side, was the place where we used to drive into the springs. Now it has a big fence, covered with bamboo stuff, and a sign that says "No trespassing".
"That's it," I said to Debra. "No, it's not," she says. "We would be able to see the actual springs now." A few feet farther on are big, bright, blue gates that say "Crystal Springs Preserve". They're locked, but a sign behind them says they accommodate tours and buses. It's pretty clear that nobody swims, fishes, or camps there any more, but you can arrange to look at it.
The next stop was just outside Plant City again, for strawberries. Plant City is the Winter Strawberry Capital of the World and the season is just starting. It's kinda ironic. I went to most of my school years in Plant City, and for the past 35 years I've lived in California in a town that considers itself the Strawberry Capital of the World. But, summer is it's big season. In Florida, everyone looks for Plant City berries--they're considered far and away the best. Watsonville's big berry reputation rests on the name of one huge grower, developer, genetic engineer, Driscoll. In California, people don't look for Watsonville berries, but for Driscoll berries. I've seen Driscoll berries in New York. Conversely I was always told that Plant City berries were sold big time to go to Europe!
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