I don’t know very much about Florida at all; instead, here are some observations, not in any particular order. To honor this recent change of location, I changed the look of this blog to lush ferns and more horizontal lines.
Florida: the place of pastel blouses and houses. Pool after pool.
On the interstate, driving south down Florida, we saw billboards selling: RVs, motel rooms, fireworks, retirement communities, sex shops, Disneyworld, Cracker Barrels, Ron John’s surf shop, and Florida oranges. Also, opposing every advertised vice, “Jesus Saves!” with directions to the nearest church. One billboard had a very white guy dressed up like Christ in front of an Armageddon scene, with mushroom clouds and machine guys. It said: “Relax, Jesus has a plan.”
Sarasota is alternately houses, gas stations, bars, grocery stores, thrift shops, medical arts buildings (mostly dermatologists), and drug stores—eventually all these peter out to either the ocean or swamplands. The constant hum of night animals keeps time suspended from twilight until sunrise. Lots of singing bugs and higher pitched frogs than I’m used to, occasional bobcats screeching. Bats, night-blooming jasmine. Street lights with blue halos, certainly. Narrow waterways veining up the backyards, banyan trees, fairy motels.
Palms are like the Virgin Mother of trees: they move the most gracefully.