Miami

During the last days of January, I flew to Miami, a tag-along to a spousal business trip.  The winter weather was warm and sunny, and we had a suite at the hotel, which made the trip into a luxury vacation, for me at least.

Since Miami is a metropolis, I didn't expect a tropical paradise, ocean breezes, colorful birds, and flowers on every corner, but I was surprised by the crowds of loud people, the snarls of traffic, and the abundance of pavement.  The food was surprisingly mediocre, fish or meat with rice or potatoes, but no arugula or mesclun on any menu, even though greens were in season.

Neighborhoods were tucked into the city, with stucco houses in peach and ochre and green with tile roofs, with coconut palms and yellow crotons and pink bougainvillea surrounding tiny green lawns.  On Sunday evening, we drove to South Beach to see the art deco buildings often pictured in magazines.  Just by chance, a parking space opened up across from the Pelican.

Like many buildings on the street, the Pelican Hotel has a cafe in the front with a garden tucked between the tables.  On the rooftop, another garden has a view of Lummus Park and a white sand beach with the Atlantic Ocean beyond.

Next door to the Pelican is Shore Park Hotel with a loud Cuban bar named Larios in front.  Throughout Miami, bars and restaurants featured live entertainment, plenty of alcohol and a party atmosphere.

My favorite garden on the street was in front of Mango's Tropical Cafe, a nightclub where semiclothed people serve alcohol among deafening noise.  Nonetheless, along the curb is a charming garden with palm trees wrapped in green and purple lights.

As the sun set, the lights glowed in the growing darkness.  The pink flamingo was the perfect touch and easy to miss on this vibrant street.

South Beach was a run down area when the TV show Miami Vice filmed here in the 80's.  Now it comprises some of the most expensive real estate in Miami.  I enjoyed seeing this historic district, but one evening's visit was all I needed.

January snow

Five nights before I flew to Miami, a deep wet snow fell and I awoke to a silent and white morning.  I pulled on my boots and stepped outside to investigate. 


Tall dark forms of the oaks towered above the understory and the snow highlighted the perfect form of the dogwood trees.

The driveway garden bent toward the pavement.  The long white border was dotted with terra cotta pots.  

The branches of virburnum near the street were swirled in white.  A plain black mailbox stood stiffly beneath.

Down the street, a group of pines that normally attracted no notice, were draped in white, like a bride on her special day.

In the back yard, the snow covered branches of the evergreen azaleas sheltered birds and rabbits.

Snow piled  deeply on the thick twigs of the red buckeye.  A fee-bee sound led me to a black capped chickadee hidden in the branches, his feathers  puffed, to insulate from the cold.

The pure pale beauty of this winter day was a contrast to the vibrant color and noise that I was to discover in Miami a few days later.