Cemetery Walks In Camellia Time

Every Sunday afternoon we walk our Corgis in the local cemetery. What passes for a Florida winter is ending and spring is on its way. Thus begins the loveliest time of year to stroll through the cemetery: Camellia Time.


These slow-growing tea relatives are planted throughout the cemetery. The white-flowered individuals have all bloomed; the big pink and red ones now have the stage to themselves. It is a pleasure to walk among them and take in their dazzling beauty packaged in blooms as big as grapefruits.




The cemetery has many mature eastern red cedar and longleaf pines. The sandy lanes between the plots are soft with fallen needles that are a pleasure to tread upon. It is especially inspiring to pass along those quiet tracks to see the late afternoon sun's blush upon the cinnamon trunks of the pines and the camellias, and to hear the breeze whispering through the treetops.



It's not a long walk by any measure. But a few minutes' contemplation in the liminal stillness among the silent graves during lovely Camellia Time brings a piece of mind and a sense of calm like few other activities.

Camellia, flowers, cemetery, Florida, walks, Corgi, liminality

Evinston - Barr Hammock Walk

My wife and I spent an entire lovely Florida morning trekking the scenic ~8 miles of country backroads between historic Evinston and the home of some dear friends who live on 80 acres west of Micanopy next to Barr Hammock in Alachua County.

We set out on our walk after a lengthy morning catching up (having lived there once) with Freddy Wood at the historic Wood and Swink store in Evinston, where we purchased a large bunch of Freddy's freshly (that morning) harvested carrots (to be sauteed tomorrow with butter, honey and a touch of curry). This day we walked right through the south side of the town of Micanopy, rather than stop for lunch and walk back the way we came (our usual "Bob Cunningham Memorial Walk"). We continued on past I-75 to our dear friends' inviting and welcoming home ~3 miles west of the town proper. They were expecting us, and happily greeted us with their usual and widely known hospitality, and a great meal.

Fay's country sausage and spinach minestrone-style soup with savory toast points was just wonderful. We lunched and chatted on their expansive screened wrap-around porch to views of the pine and oak flatwoods beyond. Tom and I took a brief walk among the sand live oaks, saw palmettos, and crooked-wood thickets to view the longleaf and sand pines on that part of their property. Scattered among the trees and palmettos Tom pointed out the remnants of longleaf pine stumps logged long ago, and pieces of clay turpentine cups scattered around them. I don't know anyone who appreciates the longleaf pine and its history in Florida more than Tom. It is a treat to share in his zeal and boyish wonder at that part of Florida's past right on his own property. These true and dear friends are the sort that enrich our and others' lives. We only hope that you too are blessed with similar active and engaging salt-of-the-earth folk. [Click on photos, below, to enlarge.]

United Methodist Church in Evinston. This church was erected in 1909 by the direct ancestors of the families that have lived in the tiny hamlet since then. Why was the building built there? To hear it from Freddy Wood, one of those descendants, it was sponsored and built because the residents wanted a place to gather, worship, baptise, and marry their children, despite the fact that few of the original inhabitants subscribed to Methodism. Formerly, a circuit preacher came to the church monthly or quarterly to preach and conduct services. The current preacher who attends the flock weekly, is Joseph Smith, a judge who lives in Williston, a few tens of miles away. His name, coincident with the founder of Mormonism, is not lost to us. The intact interior of the building and the pews are lovingly constructed of local longleaf pine and cypress. We attended services there during the time we lived in Evinston on the Vidal property.




A sandy country lane a mile or two west of Evinston. It is a pleasure to walk this lonesome road with its oak canopy filled with chittering cardinals and chickadees, and views of pastures and woodlands on each side.










An old Florida vernacular house, probably built in the 1920-1930's. A sign next to the structure advertises Clark's nursery. The roadside ?vacant house sits on several acres that also has a modern home a couple of hundred yards south of the road. Rumor has it that the old African-American man that owned the property recently packed it in and moved to somewhere Africa to end his days there as a rich man among his ancestors, free of the cares and politics of the USA. But what about the freedoms and securities that are enjoyed here?






A leaning sable palm that angled up into the surrounding canopy as it grew. I oriented this palm's canopy as if it were growing straight up overhead, which caused the normally-pitched trees to appear at an odd angle with respect to the subject of the photo.

Florida, Evinston, Barr Hammock, Micanopy, walking, soup, sausage, Tom and Fay, longleaf pine, trekking, praise walking

Henslow's Sparrow

During the walk in the grassy savannas of the 550+ acre farm property that was the subject of my previous post, my 3 friends and I flushed a small secretive bird that repeatedly flushed then dove into the grass and scurried into frozen seclusion like a quail or pheasant. It turns out the solitary bird was a wintering Henslow's Sparrow. The patient bird (image at left), who didn't stray more than 15 feet from us lead-footed humans, tarried long within camera shot and was photographed by my good friend, fellow botanist, and all-around naturalist Michael, to whom credit for the ID and image is due, and whose diverse nature photographs are to be enjoyed at his interesting Flickr site.

Henslow's Sparrows are on the Audubon Watchlist, and have been placed on the ICUN redlist of threatened birds and conservation plans of several national and international organizations.


Florida, birds, birdwatching, sparrow, Henslow, Henslow's Sparrow, savanna

Winter Ramble in a Florida Woodland

Today's lovely walk was a ~3-mile stroll in and around a 550+ acre complex of woodlands and abandoned pastures and farmlands NW of Gainesville, Alachua County, Florida. County development review staff is currently reviewing phases of a 999-unit subdivision to be built over the next decade or so. This is the second largest housing development to come to this area. [Click on images below for a larger view of same.]

Protected gopher tortoises abound in open areas of the property. The developer has set aside and fenced in 45 acres of prime tortoise habitat, into which the residents of this site will be relocated during construction. The lucky fellow on the left was stranded in the bottom of a deep (25-30 feet) karst chimney when we arrived, having fallen in during his peregrinations in search of food. He was rescued with the help of a bucket truck and an intrepid helper who rappelled into the hole from the lowered bucket.


The moss-covered arms of a Florida Live Oak (Quercus virginiana). The brilliant green moss is truly a moss. The gray stringy epiphyte known as Spanish Moss, is not a moss at all. It is, in fact a member of the bromeliad family, of which the pineapple is the fruit of the most recognized species. How does the Spanish Moss get up in the trees? The tiny seeds are furnished with a long tuft of dry hairs like seeds of dandelion or milkweed. They waft long distances in the wind and become snagged on the rough bark of trees, where they germinate. Does the moss hurt the tree? No, although when wet it contributes a good deal of extra weight to the branches, and amplifies the "sail effect" during strong winds. Spanish Moss is not parasitic. It derives all nutrients and water from the air, dirt and debris on the tree bark, and from dew and the rain.



Corky thorn-covered bark on the lower trunk of a toothache tree, a.k.a "Hercules Club". This tree is in the citrus family with its more recognizable cousins the oranges, lemons, etc. Chew the tart leaves and your mouth and gums go quite uncomfortably numb. The tree prefers open, sunny, dry, sandy upland areas, and is common in old pastures, and along fencelines around old pastures (the seeds "planted" by birds "sitting" on the wires). They're also encountered hanging on unhappily in wooded areas where abandoned pastures and farmlands have been allowed to return to woodland, most commonly populated by the aggressive and weedy laurel oak.







Young Sabal palmetto fronds and branch of a sand live oak. One commonly encounters palmettos beneath oaks in the forested areas of north central Florida. Birds roosting in the oak tree expel the pencil-eraser-sized palmetto seeds onto the ground below, where a few germinate and survive. It is not uncommon to find a veritable thicket of young palmettos beneath oak trees, especially in actively farmed or pastured areas where perches are more or less at a premium, at least locally.










Sabal palmetto. This is the state tree of Florida. You may have seen it's faithful likeness on the verso of the South Carolina quarter dollar. This tree cries "Old Florida" like no other tree. It is my favorite tree, especially in open habitats like this recently abandoned pasture, sandhill communities, and especially though rarely along open shorelines of certain lakes in this area, where the rich morning and afternoon light bathes them in their most vivid and photogenic glory. Some of this particular tree's young offspring are carpeting the ground around it's trunk. In the background, a thicket of young live oaks.






Florida, walking, live oak, sabal palm, palmetto, toothache tree, gopher tortoise, threatened species, hiking, Florida photos

Sir Edmund Hillary Dead at 88

Legendary New Zealander Sir Edmund Hillary, the first man to scale Mt. Everest, is dead. His spirit will be missed. May we all encounter that spirit as we walk the hills, dales, and mountains of those places we frequent when we wish to be at one with the world.


Edmund Hillary, Mount Everest, New Zealand, Everest, mountaineering, Hillary

Another Walk at O'Leno

I hiked the ~4.0 mile Parener's Branch trail at O'Leno State Park with my daughters on December 27. The day was clear and warm, nearly 80 degrees. The miles rolled by really quickly since we were talking and bantering the whole way.

We flushed a trio of whitetail deer not long after we hit the trail. About a mile or so later, far from the developed portion of the park, we found some very large tracks in the sugary sand. One of the tracks had a claw-print pressed into wet soil about the diameter of a pencil. We figured it was likely a black bear track, since the only other large animal that could have produced the tracks was a cougar, and cougars are supposedly extremely scarce in this part of the state. The forested lands bordering the Santa Fe River are fine habitat and an important wild corridor for the movement of large predators between giant tracts of undeveloped wildlands in the Suwannee River watershed and beyond.

The Santa Fe River is as low as I've seen it in the park, in the decade that I've been visiting it. The river sink, where the entire river goes underground, is covered with duckweed and water spangles. During higher water, the river slowly swirls round and round counterclockwise and turtles can be seen hitching rides on pieces of driftwood that spin endlessly in circles around the sink. There was no perceptible movement of the water on this day. All the turtles that were hauled out and sunning themselves were covered in a mat of duckweed.


Santa Fe, River, Florida, O'Leno

Tallahassee-St. Marks State Trail

My wife and I decided to tour the Tallahassee- St. Marks State Trail that runs from Tallahassee FL straight south to St. Marks, at the confluence of the Wakulla and St. Marks rivers. We chose to bicycle the 16 miles rather than tackle it on foot. We decided to explore this nice paved trail upon the strong recommendation of a fellow traveler we met when we hiked and camped at Torreya State Park in September of this year.

The day was lovely and cool, and overcast for the most part. We'd experienced over a week of daily rains, with additional showers in the weekend forecast. The chance of sour weather ensured that there were few people riding the distance. The further away we rode from Tallahassee, the fewer people we encountered.

We parked at the main trailhead, stretched for a few minutes, and then began pedaling. Before we knew it, we'd sailed right past the 5 mile marker. The paved and nearly level surface of the former railroad grade made for easy riding. At about 10 miles we broke out our ponchos and rode through a 5-minute rain shower. That was the only precipitation during the entire glorious ride.

The trail passed through occasional neighborhoods and small commercial areas. For most of its length the trail is bounded on the west by the Apalachicola State Forest, so one has views into piney woods that are being managed by thinning and controlled burns to restore the longleaf pine flatwoods, a nearly extirpated ecosystem (99% gone) that is the home of the endangered red-cockaded woodpecker and other listed or rare species.

The trail ends in downtown St. Marks, a tiny fishing community right on the banks of the river of the same name. We immediately set out to find Posey's World Famous Oyster Bar - only to realize that the establishment is defunct and the building empty. I had to appease my craving for fresh oysters with a fried oyster sandwich at the Riverside Cafe, next door. Posey's was a local destination in its day. Here is how one reviewer described it:

"This is [a] real oyster bar and an old landmark and looks like it. "Good smoked mullet and oysters, a real old Florida oyster bar. They also serve other local seafood, but you go here for the mullet and oysters. Take a dollar bill to write your name on and staple to the wall or ceiling, it'll make you feel local. Prices are low."

We dined outside to the views of crab boats chugging by, a crew unloading traps from a boat at the fish house next door, and the timeless saltmarshes extending to the horizon beyond the river. Afterwards we bicycled a mile or so among the marshes to San Marcos de Apalache State Park. We walked the trails around the old fort ruins and toured the museum/visitors' center. The fort sits at the extreme point of land internal to the confluence of the St. Marks and Wakulla Rivers. It was quite interesting to stand on the rocky point with its cedar trees and sawgrass and imagine the parade of indigenous peoples and (since 1528) Europeans that through the centuries have stood at that very spot to fish, and hunt, and watch for marauders, enemies, friends, rescuers, and conquerors. We recommend a visit to this small state park with its very impressive history.

We had just finished strapping the bikes onto the carrier when the rain started. We'd watched towering gunmetal clouds with their skirts of rain advancing eastward across the endless marshlands west of the Wakulla River, and listened as the claps of thunder grew closer and louder. The scene was magnificent and humbling. We were glad to get on down the road after such a lovely day's riding and walking in the area. We're sure to return soon - there are so many natural areas to explore there.

Tallahassee, St. Marks, rail trail, Florida, state parks, Wakulla River, oysters, Apalache, Florida history