Purple flower

While in Miami, I saw the most beautiful purple flower, so fresh and bright that it took my breath away.  I thought about that flower in my garden this week, when I saw the wild violets, the first to bloom in the spring. 

My favorite spring flower is tradescantia, common name: spiderwort, a loathsome name for a rich purple flower with green strappy leaves.  Each flower lasts only a day, but tradescantia puts out fresh blooms each morning for several weeks each spring.

Another purple bloomer is clematis.  This one is just a baby.

Like the clematis, the passionvine is a climber, but it is far more vigorous.  In summer, I keep my eye on the passionvine, lest it smother wimpy plants nearby.  The flowers are so beautiful and intricate, they holds my attention.

Salvia farinacea is another summer bloomer, with purple wands that are attractive to bees, but not to deer -- the perfect plant.

The last to bloom in the fall are the asters, billows of purple flowers with yellow centers.  

But the beautiful purple flower that I saw in Miami is none of these.

Can you guess?  The name of the purple flower in Miami?

No, that is not right.

Shall I give you a hint?

The beautiful purple flower has already set seed.

Glass bottomed boat

On our last morning at Key West, we signed up for the last excursion on the glass bottomed boat to the coral reef.  We waited in line for an hour before we were allowed to go aboard.    

In Gucci and Prada, we blended seamlessly with the other passengers. 



We passed the wharf and the marina, and picked up speed as we passed the cruise ship Oriana, docked like a floating hospital in the deep port of the tiny key.

                                      
                                       It was a very long ship.



We passed the sandy end of Key West, only 90 miles from Cuba.

When we got to the coral reef, we went below.  The view to the reef from the windows was obscured by sand that had been stirred up by a recent storm, but the crew did an able job of describing the coral and fish that were visible.

As we headed back to Key West, the crew served tiny glasses of champaign.  The passengers partied on the deck as they waited for sunset.  As soon as the sun slid below the horizon, most of the passengers took the stairs below to find warmer quarters.

But the best was yet to come.  The sunset was spectacular, and we had it mostly to ourselves.



Sunset

At the end of the long day, the sun drops hot and white on the horizon.  The light is blinding, yet my eyes are drawn into that fire.  I glance at the water to cool my eyes.  A round dark spot appears, then slowly fades.

Sunlight skips a line of gold across the shadowy water.  A moment later, the flare is gone.

Even before the evening cools, a breeze whips up, running a chill across bare arms.  The water stirs.

The deck is almost empty, but you and I stand shoulder to shoulder.  I drop my arms by my side and try to breathe deeply.  Then I turn my head away.

The boat rocks.  A wave laps up on its side.  The water is deep and dark.  Overhead the sky streaks orange and gold, and then glows in amber.

I stand beside the rail and watch a sailboat thread the thin line between the endless sea and the vast sky.
     

Vizcaya

A hundred years ago, industrialists with names like Vanderbilt, Deering and Carnegie amassed large fortunes in steel, oil, railroads and machinery.  They lived in the Northeast, but created summer castles elsewhere, furnishing them inside with the finest European treasures and Asian curiosities. 

They hired renowned landscape architects to surround their dream homes with exquisite gardens using plants from around the world. These vast gardens displayed plant collections, terraces, statuary and fountains that flaunted wealth outside the house just as Old Masters oil paintings and medieval tapestries did inside the house.  

Vizcaya was built as a summer house on a bay near Miami by industrialist James Deering, whose family owned International Harvester, a company that made farm equipment.  At the time, Miami was a small town of 10,000 people.

The house was designed as an Italian estate that had stood for 400 years.  Two stories of rooms opened to a large square courtyard in the middle. 

The drive to the house was wide and shady, flanked by tall trees and rectangular pools of water.

The back of the house opened out to Biscayne Bay on the Atlantic Ocean.  A limestone Barge with classical statues was used for parties and guests were ferried from the house by gondola.  The Barge had a practical function as well, a breakwater against tidal surges during storms. 
  
Vizcaya contains several themed gardens, including the Secret Garden, a sunken garden originally designed to display orchids.

Now the secret garden displays echeveria, tropical succulent plants that survive on little water and require little soil.

A view through lush tropical plants and palms along the perimeter of the garden reveals Biscayne Bay.

Farther from the house, the native vegetation has been left intact, a hardwood hammock that includes the only mangroves left in Miami.  Behind these mangroves is the Fountain Garden.  The centerpiece was for centuries the only source of water in a small Italian village.  When the town upgraded to running water, they needed the space in the center of town for cars and the town sold the fountain to Deering, who brought it to Miami in pieces and  reassembled it.  

A view back to the house from an elevated island. 

Universities are named for industrialists like Vanderbilt, Stanford and Carnegie.  We forget how brutal these men were to the people who worked for them, how ruthless to competitors. They did not care for ordinary people, but today, one hundred years later, everyday tourists are the ones who are impressed by these homes and gardens.