It’s five a.m. and the
bright full moon is casting dancing shadows in the hawkish wind. The dense, tall
trees are creaking in the back yard forest with giant limbs swaying. The air is
cold and dry; it has not rained in several days.
It’s a far cry from the
balmy Florida yesterday. We got up at 6:30 a.m. to watch the sunrise over the
ocean. Joan’s cottage is five minutes from the beach. In the salty damp warm
air, the street greeted us with pitch blackness. The island has no street
lights. The only ambient light comes from the moon and the stars and they were
not providing much brightness. Our eyes adjusted to the dark and we walked in
silence. I could hear the small geckos scatter in front of our feet. They were
everywhere, like tiny beige Velociraptors. The lush tropical vegetation,
especially the clustered and dense palm trees secluded any possible light
coming from homes nearby. Many were shuttered for the winter season.
I did not see any Palmetto
Bugs, the lovely euphemism given by Floridians to huge cockroaches but I cleaned
their unpleasant presence in the shower and in the kitchen. I was busy
vacuuming for a little while when we first arrived. The cottage had been closed
for five months. While in the back yard, I saw a beautiful green snake slither
between the tall grasses and the crushed sea shells. I could not search
anything to see if it was poisonous or not. We had no Internet, no radio, no
television, and very poor phone reception. We were not cut off from the world
but it felt this way, not being tethered to some instantaneous form of
communication. After a while, we got used to it and enjoyed life more and each
other’s company.
It is October but the
temperature was 88 degrees every day in Siesta Key. The ocean water was a balmy 82 degrees.
We made our way to the beach groping in the dark. The damp sand felt soft and
velvety under our feet. There was not a soul anywhere, just the thunder of the
waves crashing into the rocky pier nearby. Erosion is a problem – large boulders
and a rocky pier control some of it. A
curious and unmoving crane perched on a rock is peering at us in the darkness.
We started walking in
silence along the shoreline; the sun will rise on the left at 7:24. It was
pointless to shoot pictures – it was too dark. Here and there flocks of sea
gulls were still nesting noisily for the night. They did not scatter when they
saw our shadows approaching. Waves lapped at our bare feet – I was surprised by
the warmth of the ocean so early in the morning.
The tides left pools of
water on the beach during the night. They will evaporate when the sun comes up.
Small globs of jelly fish pick up the light. A ring of newly abandoned shells
follow the shore line. Sea weeds and curiously long cucumber-like plants are
scattered along the way. We walked for a good half hour before a tiny sliver of
light emerged. Slowly, the sky changed color, becoming a milky dark grey, then
hues of dark blue, light blue, and finally rays of pink fanning across the sky,
breaking through the dark blue like projector lights on nature’s stage. The
ocean appeared bluer from its ominous navy darkness.
I imagined the ocean depths
teaming with creatures large and small and felt a twinge of tightness in my chest
visualizing how quickly a human would succumb to such a hostile environment.
Yet it was so beautiful! The sand took on the color of pink. Behind the condos
dotting the beach, a dark orange light emerged, mixed with darkness. At exactly 7:24 a.m. an intense orange orb
appeared. I looked around and saw several people walking the beach, searching
for sea shells and a lone fisherman, knee-deep in water. The waves were not too
fierce. The sea gulls flocks took off now when more humans approached. The
crane was gone. I took pictures of the beach saturated with color. The fascinating
palette flooded my eyes with shades of gold, yellow, pink, orange, and blue.
On our way back, we
stopped at the Broken Egg, our favorite outdoor breakfast café, where they make
the best omelets and a famous buttermilk pancake the size of a huge plate. If
it is a place where locals line up to eat and have their favorite table, I know
the food is delicious and cheap.
I must not forget Captain
Curt’s crab and oyster bar, the first place winner for the best New England
clam chowder competition that took place in Newport, Rhode Island. It was
delicious! The place was hopping with locals and tourists every night.
The day before, while
frolicking in the emerald green crystalline waters, I stopped in awe and fear
when three small sting rays gently glided past me in the ocean. All I could
think of was, please don’t flip your tails. I encountered fish of all sizes,
glittering silver in the waves. One blue mid-size fish, resembling a marlin, swam
slowly close to the surface; he appeared to let himself be carried by the warm
surface currents.
I could not tell that
thousands of miles away tropical storm Karen was brewing. Once in a while I
felt a cold current bathing my feet. On our last day, the ocean became furious
and agitated, the perfect time to surf on the tall waves. We were alone on the
beach, a bit cloudy at first, a lone surfer watched like a hawk by the
lifeguard on duty. A five minute quick rain drenched us while we sat in our
chairs watching the surfer battle the waves. The sun came out, everything dried
and the rest of the day was lovely, snoozing by the sound of crashing water
with this paradise all to ourselves.
Siesta Key was voted
number one beach in the country in 2011. Why travel to faraway lands when we
have such a fantastic jewel in Florida?
Florida was the best
acquisition to the United States string of pearls. According to the 1819
Adams-Onis Treaty, Spain ceded Florida to the United States for $5 million and
the promise that America would renounce any claims to Texas that they might
have had from the Louisiana purchase. Alternately, the Spanish, the French, and
the British ruled over this strip of heaven.
But Sarasota and its keys,
with the most beautiful beaches in the country are its Tahitian pearls. The dunes,
the tall grasses, the sugar white sand, the emerald green waters, the balmy
climate, and the lush vegetation blooming year round make it one of the best in
the world.
According to some
historians, conquistador Ponce de Leon named the peninsula in April 1513, La Florida (flowery land) because of the
Spanish Easter Season named Pascua
Florida (Flowery Easter). The lush vegetation was in bloom at the time when
he landed. From 1630 through the 18th century, La Florida was also known as Tegesta,
after the Tegesta tribe, as it appeared on a Dutch map of cartographer Hessel
Gerritsz.
Sarasota is a retirement
heaven judging by the numerous hospitals and clinics everywhere. It was not the
height of tourist season, some stores were closed for fall, but many were
empty, victims of the terrible mismanaged economy of the last four years.
The Lido Beach area in St.
Armands Key was hopping with rich tourists, some speaking Arabic, and a wedding
party; a lovely couple had just tied the knot on the beach at sunset. Year-round
rich locals come out in the evening in the Harding Historic Circle for a promenade
with their leashed dogs or in infant strollers and to have dinner at their
favorite European style cafes. Our eating experience at the four-star
restaurant Crab and Fin was a disaster.
St. Armands Key was an
oval shaped, 150-acre uninhabited island when John N. Ringling (1866-1936) purchased
it in 1923. Ringling planned a community of expensive homes with a central
park. The Harding Park was named after his friend, President Warren Harding
(1865-1923).
St. Armands was opened in
1923 when the bridge to the mainland was completed. Mediterranean and Spanish
style homes were built after 1945 and more residential and shopping areas were
developed later.
I learned that on January
16, 2001, Harding Circle with its associated medians and boulevards was placed
on the Register of Historic Places for “its unique early planning and
development.” The residents view this designation with pride and
accomplishment.
The area is now dotted
with lovely white marble statues, a stark white contrast to the green palm
trees and flowering bushes. The Allegory
of Sarasota, one cluster of statues representing the seven virtues “conceived
and designed by Edward Pinto,” is looked upon with approval by the statue of a
benevolent Michelangelo:
-
- Music
(representing the performing arts)
-
- Flora (representing
natural beauty)
-
Aristotle (representing
the local area research and facilities)
-
Sculpture
(representing painting and sculpture)
-
Asclepius (god of
medicine, representing the many local specialists and clinics)
-
Bounty (representing
the richness of land and sea)
-
Amphitrite (wife
of Neptune, representing the gulf and bays).
Downtown Sarasota proudly
displays a huge statue called “Unconditional Surrender,” created by sculptor J.
Seward Johnson, the anonymous kiss between a soldier and a nurse, a symbol of freedom,
a celebrated moment in the history of our nation marking the end of WWII. Jack
Curran bought the sculpture and, with the help of various Sarasota county
veterans organizations, donated the sculpture to the city of Sarasota.
Sarasota was once the
winter home of the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus. The cultural
attractions include the John and Mabel Ringling Museum of Art (1927), a 66-acre
estate on Sarasota Bay, the Mote Marine Laboratory (1955), Selby Gardens
(1975), Van Wezel Performing Arts Hall (1968), Florida West Coast Symphony
(1949), College of Art and Design (co-founded by Ringling in 1931) and many
others.
But for me, the salty
ocean water, the spray, the breeze, the spectacular sunsets and sunrises, the
pelicans diving for food, the majestic cranes, sand dunes with native grasses
tall and willowy in the wind, the turtle nests, and the snow white sand are the
main attraction. I cannot have enough napping by the sea, watching nature
unfold before my inquisitive eyes, and playing like a kid in the ocean surf.
