May 30th;
While our past president was just found guilty on all of his 34 felony counts in a Manhattan courtroom, I sat out, in the outlying borough of Queens, prepared to depart from a newly remodeled LaGuardia airport.
With a sense of unease, as passengers, we peered out where the majority of vehicle traffic looked to be existing the city. And, it was only a Thursday.
A sad ending for a statuesque palm. From last season's hurricane and property flood, a slow dying, 45 ft native 'Royal' was brought to the ground. This magnificent palm, with it's broad crown and distinctive crownshaft, was the center of a threesome that had lined our driveway for over 40 years.
With just two guys up on high extension ladders, using a single chainsaw with rope and tackle, within an hour, it all finally came to an end.
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So I thought about that today. Another long, hot, five hour stint, back out at the Upper Myakka Preserve, cutting trails and clearing shrub with the Conservation Foundation, all working towards an end of a restoration project. And today, feeling happy just being healthy enough.
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But out east heading home, sadly saw this road-kill doe, again thinkin', "not dead yet?"
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I volunteered this past week to "tag along" with one of our Conservation Foundation's several Land Steward's, mapping, clearing and documenting the Upper Myakka Preserve. Total, there were three of us, tasked with also identifying and removing an invasive plant species, a very thorny shrub, the aquatic soda apple.
Esmeralda (Land Steward), Stacey (volunteer) and I started in the uplands, north of the Myakka State Park boundary. We headed both north and south, mapping down to the lower-lying banks of the Myakka River.
We marked our way through old growth of live-oak and cabbage palms, down to the river's edge. There we pushed hard through the six-foot high, nearly impenetrable, invasive Para grass. Impressively, all accomplished within a five hour hike through the Preserve’s heavily 'hog-rutted' terrain.
Glad I was up for it. Though, did feel a little punch-drunk later, after finally laying down.
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The Conservation's 'Land Steward', Esmeralda, forcefully pushing her way through the tall Para grass along the river's bank.
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Below is the construction phase of a newly completed house in our neighborhood. It began a little over a year ago, from a heavily wooded lot, to a completely leveled property. A cookie-cutter design which became a contemporary, supposed enviable new home, now appears alarmingly across the way.
Our road, Flamingo Ave (below) just before construction. On the right, our property (with a hidden blue mailbox up ahead) - and the soon-to-be transformed wooded lot on the left (just beyond the driveway and white mailbox).
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Our mailbox with our side-gate entrance.
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March 2023. The lot across the road, bulldozed and totally cleared of all life (viewed from our mailbox).
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April 2023. Start of construction.
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May 2023
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September 2023
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October 2023
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March 2024. Now a year later, construction finally complete this past week. Today, even without the new homeowners appearance, newly installed lights, interior & exterior, have remained lit throughout the night. New owners? Still haven't seen 'em, or met 'em, at least not yet. But from the not-so-distant past, I do miss the owls, the raccoons and those few wandering snakes.
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Palm transplant; I couldn't move one of those, let alone one on my own.
From the tidal floods of this past year, I had to replace four hefty pygmy date palms that had withered and died from saltwater intrusion.
Amazingly, my buddies are a whirlwind team. Holes were dug and within five hours all the new specimens were neatly, nicely transplanted, leaving proud smiles all around.
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Erick, the "young buck". Lion, the "wise-one". And my old buddy, "bossman", Sr. Jayro Marin
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