Month: December 2015 (page 1 of 1)

Tucked among the suburban houses in these Hudson River villages, nature is preserved. I’ve written about the East Irvington Nature Preserve just up the hill from our house. This is one of many hidden sanctuaries throughout Westchester County. Recently, we visited Juhring Nature Preserve in Dobb’s Ferry.

Here’s a description of Juhring I found online:

“This 76 acre preserve is Dobbs Ferry’s largest park. The woodland preserve has several hiking trails. Dogs are allowed.

The estate was named for John C. Juhring III, a landscape architect, who acquired the property in 1909 and whose Belden Avenue residence was at one time contiguous to the current 76 acre parcel. By the early 1960s the land was owned by Edward J. Tobin and Reuben Chase, both investors, who were planning to subdivide the property into 115 lots. Public outrage prompted the village government to acquire grants from the federal and state governments to purchase the property as open space. The only stipulation that came with the federal and state grants was that the land remain undeveloped, open and available for the public to enjoy.” -www.thesalmons.org/lynn/walks/

I love that there was public outrage in the name of trees. I love that the village government was organized enough to get grants to keep the land undeveloped.

I wish that the area surrounding our East Irvington Preserve was not being cut down for an impending apartment complex. In areas that are growing and thick with people, houses are needed, but I sought refuge in that park, and now it’s loud with bulldozers. Sigh. Things change.

Along the trail at East Irvington, there was a large beehive hanging low on a bush. In the early Fall, Benjamin leaned in to take a picture, and a bee flew out at him. The hive was active. We visited a few weeks ago, and it was in pieces on the ground. I cried. I know hives are abandoned when it’s cold, and a strong enough wind could have pulled it apart. I know it could have happened naturally, but this looked purposeful. It made me angry and sad. All I could do was hope that the bees were long gone before the violence occurred.

When things upset me, I try to find comfort in knowledge. For 2016, I vow to finally and completely read a book called Wilderness and the American Mind. My friend Nick recommended and loaned this book to me, but I only read parts of it before I returned it to him. Then, at his wedding, he and Allen offered books as party gifts. Wilderness and the American Mind was among these treasures, and I tucked it into my party bag. I want to know the history of our continent’s natural places and how we “Americans” (really Europeans) changed our opinions of wild places. I know, from the little that I did read, that our ideas about nature have fluctuated from fear to romanticism, to thinking that all the resources are for our use to thinking we should leave nature alone, preserve it, enjoy it for its beauty. This push-pull attitude toward nature seems to continue, depending on politics or money or other exhausting human things.

As I write this, I am recalling a moment with my niece when she was three years old. We were taking a walk in my parent’s neighborhood, and we came across a dead black racer snake that had clearly been squished by a car. First, she asked why the car didn’t see the snake. She rationalized that she would have seen the snake from her carseat, and she would have prevented his dying. The only way I knew to comfort her was to say that now the snake was food for ants, and for every dead snake there were more alive ones in the swamp. She seemed satisfied with this answer and looked intently at the ants as they carried away the body. We walked back to my parents, and as luck would have it, a black racer was swimming in the pool. She looked at me as she often did, smiling and excited, “You were right, Aunt Shella. You were right!” I never felt more grateful.

And when Benjamin and I were on another lovely trail, the Old Aqueduct, we saw a different hive, safe and high in a tree. For a moment I was comforted thinking that for every ending, there is hopefully a beginning, somewhere else.

I used to live in a neighborhood called Seminole Heights in Tampa, Florida. When I was there, about fifteen years ago, I ate at Angelica’s or Nicko’s Fine Foods Diner. Sadly, Angelica’s is no longer there, but I remember it fondly as a welcoming place, filled with Frida Kahlo inspired art and offering some of the most delicious Mexican food I’ve ever tasted. Nick’s had the perfect diner atmosphere, great breakfasts, and the best chicken gyros.

Now Seminole Heights is experiencing an explosion of new restaurants. When my friend and I were there in November, we had dinners at Fodder and Shine (www.fodderandshine.com) and Ichicoro Ramen (www.ichicoroya.com). Both places were excellent! At Fodder and Shine, I had the Pot Likker Poached Shrimp, and at Ichicoro I had a seafood appetizer that was almost too beautiful and delicious to describe. It was presented as a long platter with rows of shrimp and scallops and salty seaweed “chips” on the side. Say what you will about the hipster revolution, but I like what they are bringing to the table. Tasty and pretty!

As a side note, I was extra glad that I visited the ramen restaurant. While my friend and I sat at the bar waiting for a table, I recognized a familiar face among the wait staff. This lovely young woman was one of my best students, one of the most creative writers I had the pleasure to meet in my years as a teacher. It was so good to see her, reconnect, and learn that she is happy, healthy, and in love with her neighborhood.

There were no sit-down-and-write coffee shops in Seminole Heights when I lived there, so it was great to see these popping up as well. I wrote at an outside table at Mikey’s Cafe and Bakery (www.cafe-bakery.com).  Mikey’s makes scrumptious sandwiches served with crispy dill pickles. Yum! Lane, one of the charming co-owners, chatted with me. He talked about the neighborhood with such love and respect and this was very nice to hear. Mikey’s is located between a pet supply store and a bike shop. While I wrote, I was treated to a parade of cute dogs and people walking and biking past me.

I didn’t go visit my former apartments or any of my other old haunts like Nick’s or Maurico Faedo’s Bakery, the antique shops, or the vintage clothing stores. I was afraid I’d feel too sentimental. When I did wander a bit, I almost stepped on a ring neck snake, and I saw kitties everywhere.

Ring necks are adorable, docile snakes. This one tried her best to posture for me, raising her head, trying to make herself appear bigger than her tiny body. I resisted the urge to pick her up and instead respected her warning by walking quietly away. She slithered into the neighbor’s garage, and I wished her well.

I remember someone once told me that Seminole Heights used to be a pecan grove. When people first built houses there, back in the early 1900s, there were a lot of rodents due to all those sweet pecans. People got themselves some domestic predators to solve the problem. I had two cats, Magic and Tramp. Both my toms scampered from porch to porch in Seminole Heights. It felt good to honor their memories and know that the neighborhood is still populated with felines.

It’s a strange feeling to be somewhere familiar and changing, but visiting Seminole Heights reassured me that the Florida I knew lingered… on the front porches of the houses, on the cobblestone streets, in the charm of the people who called me ‘darlin’’ and ‘hon,’ and in the animals who continue to grace the former pecan grove. Sweet. My sweet Florida.