The Garden of the Sunshine State: Green Gardens, Beautiful Beaches, Splendid Birds, and Old Birds (Like Us)

            I don't know why for years I avoided all thought of Florida. I think it was snobbery.

            Florida, I believed, lacked culture. Where would we be without our museums, our theaters, our universities? (In
Florida?)

            A story I heard years ago summed up this frosty attitude. When a New York City couple retired they said to one another, "Well all our friends have moved to Florida, I guess we should too." So they moved to Florida, settled in, and tried to find some classical music on the radio to listen to. 

            But couldn't seem to find any.

            "That's it," one spouse said to the other, "we're moving back to New York."

            Truth is, we spent four days in South Florida last week, and I only tried the radio once. Sure enough, no classical. We settled for 'classic rock' and listened to "The Dancing Queen." 

            Add your own punch line.

            It's true that people like us who live in Greater Boston or New York or another urban center enjoy more access to the delights of 'high' culture -- museums, live orchestras, live theater, art shows, opera, author talks -- than the sunny climes of Florida.

            But if you're not driving to the airport in a rented car to catch a plane home at vacation's end -- a pretty unlovable activity in any time and place -- Florida in March beats the hell out of any place we could be "up north."

            And after two or three months of the winter drearies, truth is we can live without these spiritual enhancements easier than we can live without sunshine, outdoor exercise, flowers, birds, warm water, and lots of growing green stuff all around and blue sky above.

            I was wrong about Florida. Particularly in late winter.

            In the sunny community of Delray Beach, in the first days of March, people as old as me, and older, sit around and talk all day with most of their clothes off.

            They gather in beach chairs and lounges around the pool, in shade if shade is what they want, in the sun if sun is what they want it (and buy skin screen by the quart). You can have it either way; or a little of both.

            Sometimes they sit on brightly colored foam floaties manufactured in a bizarre but effective shapes best described by the slang term "noodles" on which they float, in a reclining or even sitting attitude, potentially for hours.

            This is possible because in Florida they have heated pools outdoors. Sometimes fresh water; sometimes salt water.

            So if it the temperature isn't quite hot enough for a classic beach day, it's still warm enough to loll by the pool and float around in the warm bath-like water. To avoid any momentarily unpleasant cooling by condensation when you step out of the pool, there's always a transitional visit to the hot tub.

            On our four-day visit, hard on the heels of the most recent coastal-flooding Northeaster, we ventured beyond our pleasure dome to take in some local delights: An extensive Japanese Garden (the Morikami Museum and Japanese Garden https://morikami.org/) one day. A public boardwalk adventure trail built over wetlands heavily frequented by water-loving fowl (the Green Cay Nature Center and Wetlands, in Boynton Beach) and some slithery creatures prowling underneath, the next.

            We walked the lovely shores of nearby Delray Beach -- roiled to historically strong surf by the same Northeaster cyclone that drowned New England coasts -- before on the final day jumping into the storm-churned Atlantic. 

            Plus all that pool time.

            We had meals (and one of us had naps) on a sunny balcony, rubbing shoulders with the green lineaments of invading palms and visited by fat Florida pigeons.

            For evening repasts we were on the town. Our feats included luscious seafood in a cutting-edge emporium of Nouveau American cuisine; a pub meal in a quaint British-replica establishment with jazz on Sunday nights; and a popular Mexican restaurant with delicious tacos and $3 Margaritas (Monday nights only).            

            Ah, the pleasures of senses. I'm still working on the poems of this season. But I no longer have any difficulty making time -- winter time -- for Florida.