Destroy Nature - Destroy God

A Land Remembered by Patrick D. Smith (1984, Pineapple Press) is a must-read for anybody making his home in Florida. It follows 3 generations of the MacIvey family struggling to survive and prosper in the Florida wilderness, interwoven with the parallel story of the Seminole  Tiger/Cypress family experiencing the destruction of their way of life. It is painted against a canvas of harsh scrubland of palmettos and oaks, crystalline springs, panorama of vast prairies and impenetrable swamps, and the magnificence of the once vast Everglades. Magnificence, abundance, and tragedy are constant themes.

The MacIveys undergo years of near-starvation and privation, eating flour made from ground cattails, and often surviving on nothing more than boiled pokeweed. The friendship and help from Keith Tiger are key to their success.

It is a riveting story, covering Florida from 1858 to 1968, touching on the state's role in the Civil War, the injustices done to the indigenous people, natural disasters, the coming of the railway, and the Florida boom. A seemingly irreconcilable conflict between human progress and the survival of the natural world is always in the background. While the courage, integrity and indomitable spirit shown by the MacIveys is admirable, their survival is also partly the story of the exploitation and degredation of the land that supports them.

Scrub Near Estero, Florida, West of US 41, 1971

Florida's rich history (and current status) as a cattle state might surprise many new residents. After they relocate near present-day Kissimmee, the family does prosper, rounding up and branding cattle, which they take in months-long drives to Punta Rassa, fattening up the lean cattle on the abundant wild grasses. The descriptions of the vast prairies and swamps that that they traverse are heart-breakingly beautiful. It is also a brutal life, as they lose herds to sudden floods, quicksands, and other natural phenomena. Frontier life takes its toll on life and health. Trouble with other people begins when more people settle in the area, blocking off rangeland, and fencing. Range wars and cattle rustling become chronic problems.

Marsh Trail, 10,000 Islands Refuge
Seemingly Endless Expanse

If for no other reason, the novel should be read for its panoramic descriptions of wild Florida. If it were filmed, it would call for the wide-screen format. It chronicles a magnificent landscape, abundant with life. Take the father, Tobias's first glimpse of Payne's Prairie:

"They gradually left the pine land to come into a forest of tall magnolias, live oaks, and cabbage palms. Then suddenly they stepped over a slight bluff overlooking the edge of the savanna. ...The plain was as flat as a table top and stretched away to the horizon. There were no trees to break its vastness or to judge distance... As they descended into the basin, the ground was spongy to their feet. There were great flocks of birds everywhere, ducks and coots and bitterns and plovers and rails. Hawks and eagles circled overhead, and tall sandhill cranes danced out of the way as the men made their way through the marsh. There were also vast herds of deer, and frightened bobcats scurried out of grass clumps at the sound of approaching feet and hooves. The entire area teemed witih life..."
(pp.37-38)

Tobias refuses to buy land, but his son Zech realizes that it is necessary, and uses some of the wealth they have accumlated to gain title, and to fence their holdings. They make so much money from the cattle that he buys thousands of acres of prairies and swamps. As the beef  market changes, Tobias and Zech plant acres orange groves.

The middle generation, Zech, is the only one who fully senses what is happening. His parents have had to focus on survival, and while Zech continues their fight against the elements, he realizes that he is losing something essential:

 "One night as Zech listened apprehensively to the lonesome cry of a wolf, realizing that it was a harmless lone voice and not a pack, he wondered what the future held for old adversaries like wolves and bears and for all the other creatures that depended on the land for survival. ...Perhaps animals are smarter than men, he thought, taking only what they need to live  today, leaving something for tomorrow. Even the hated wolf kills only for food...Maybe it is man who will eventually perish as he destroys all the land and all that if offers, taking the animals down with him." p.270.

Zech and Tobias make a trip to the Big Cypress area to visit the Keith family. The descriptions of the vast "river of grass," that made up the northern Everglades, the custard-apple swamps, vast flocks of egrets, herons and spoonbills create a glimmer of the incredible expanse and beauty that once graced that landscape. He sees for the first time, "the great marsh Pay-Hay-Okee- ... a land so overwhelming in its vastness that it caused Zech to blink his eyes in wonderment...". (p. 196). He buys vast sections of land south of Lake Okeechobee partly to preserve it.

Fakahatchee Strand
Part of the Big Cypress

Zech appreciates the wilderness he has bought, thinking that he has made it safe, but, tragically, he does not convey this sentiment to his son. After the death of his parents, the son, Sol, does what the MacIveys always have done - clear the wilderness for agriculture and settlement, rationalizing that there is plenty left.

His half-brother, Toby Cypress, confronts him: "It is not just swamp . . . It is God you are killing. He put the land here for all creatures to enjoy, and you are destroying it. When you destroy the land you destroy God. Do you not know this? Go now and stand in the middle of your fields. Count the deer you see, and the alligaors, and the fish, and the birds. Count them, Sol, and tell me how many are still there. You have crushed them with your damned machines, and if you do not stop what you are doing, there will soon be no more! They will be gone forever!"

Toby Cypress is not referring to a god in a religious sense, but as the sanctity and integrity of a space in which all the elements are still coexisting. This "god" encompasses the whole and the parts, the individual and the process, the present, along with past and future generations. That is why. in 2020, we have to work even harder to preserve what is left of this great natural network, far beyond our comprehension despite all our scientific advancements.

Sadly, the history of Florida is to a large extent the history of the exploitation and degradation of its natural resources. So much has been lost that the land of Keith Tiger and Tobias MacIvey exists now largely only as a "land remembered."

I hope my photographs convey something of the sensation of vast space in the Florida wilderness. Sadly, they are virtually all devoid of wildlife. That is partly because many were taken during the time of day when the wild things are resting. But it's partly because the wildlife population has been decimated so drastically. The pythons infesting the southern part of the state are devouring wildlife at a horrendous rate. They are just another manifestation of our carelessness with the beautiful land in which we live.

Pluchea rosea - Rosy Camphorweed

Pluchea rosea,  "rosy camphorweed" or "(salt) marsh fleabane," has been blooming since mid-February. It is an attractive, well-behaved native that generally isn't available even in the native plant nursery business. That's a shame, because this plant has a lot going for it. I dug my clump from a vacant lot probably 20 years ago. I'm glad I did, because now that lot is mowed regularly, and also used as a parking lot, sometimes for heavy trucks and trailers.

Pluchea rosea - Rosy Camphorweed

Pluchea is a member of the aster family, which is notable for its flowering system. Members of this family have numerous tiny flowers arranged in clusters called heads. What looks like the center of a daisy is actually an agglomeration of disc flowers, and what seem to be petals actually are individual ray flowers. Some species have both types of flowers, while others may have only ray or disc florets. Pluchea has only disk flowers, which are arranged in flat-topped clusters.

Pluchea rosea - Detail of Individual Flower on Left

The plant behaves like a standard perennial for me. If the weather gets too dry it may go dormant or semi-dormant, but new growth always emerges on schedule in the spring.

Pluchea rosea is quite undemanding, but it does like a little water. Their preferred habitat is marshes and wet flatwoods. In our yard they occupy a spot that stays somewhat moist for a good part of the year, but I imagine they would really like it wetter. They also get some dappled shade part of the day. We are in the middle of a drought now, and I have been giving them some water, but in general they do well enough on their own.

Pluchea rosea with Closeup of Flowering Clusters

I sound like a broken record with my refrain, "One of our prettiest native plants ...," but Pluchea rosea qualifies. It is quietly spectacular, creating a soft gray green "cool" spot in the landscape, and its  heads are a lovely maroon-pink. The books say they can get up to 4 feet tall, but mine stay shorter, probably due to their somewhat dry location. Cutting down the dead stalks from the previous years' growth, and trimming away the old heads to encourage new flowering are about the only maintenance required.

The leaves are somewhat thick, verging on succulent, and feel like pieces of felt. They alternate around the stems, which are branched. The leaves can be anywhere from oval to somewhat arrow-shaped, and have serrated edges. The leaf's apex often ends in a tiny hair or thorn.

Pluchea rosea with Enlargement of Single Head on Left

In all these years I've never noticed any chewing or disease damage. That likely is due to the plant's pungency and extreme hairiness. It is one hairy plant for sure - stems, leaves, bracts, flower heads. Even parts you can't see without a microscope are hairy. The otherwise gray-green leaves can shine a brilliant silver when the sunlight reflects off of them.

Unfortunately, due to their somewhat out-of-the way location in the yard, I haven't been able to tell how attractive they are to butterflies or other pollinators, but naturalist Roger Hammer calls the plant, "a supurb butterfly attractor," and he should know.

Pluchea rosea

Somebody once told me that Pluchea was one of the very few plants that goats wouldn't eat. I used to keep goats, and their lust for things like thorny blackberry canes and other seemingly inedible plants is truly astounding. I guess neither they nor insects care much for a mouth full of fuzzy mentholatum!

Seven species of Pluchea occur in Florida, and one of them, P. longifolia, is endemic. P. saggitalis is an escape native to South America. Rosy camphorweed occurs nearly throughout the state, and indeed, much of the United States, especially coastal areas. It also is found in Mexico, Central America, the Caribbean and northern South America.

The genus has wide ethnobotanical history in the Southern US, Caribbean, and Asia. It has many medicinal uses, and some species have potential as anti-cancer agents. There are many forms of pluchea as a supplement on the internet. Sure wish the plants themselves were as readily available!

The complexity of the flower heads and the difficulty of rendering the texture of the leaves has discouraged me from trying anything beyond rough watercolor sketches, but maybe it's time to take the plunge.

All Native Plant Nursery

Just before the "stay home" order I got to visit the All Native Plant Nursery in Fort Myers with one of my sisters. What  a treat! It had been far too long since my last visit. I bought too many plants - our yard is already crowded. My reason for going was the need for a Bahama Cassia, but of course, I bought more than that one plant. (For some reason I can't link back to my own blog, but in "The Butterfly Effect," posted on 1/23/20, I talk about Bahama Cassia).

A wonderful mix of "minty" fresh foliage and the heady fragrance of several varieties of viburnums enveloped us as soon as we entered the sales area.  I really wanted one, not only for the fragrance, but also for birds, but it is too unruly for our small yard.

I planted one once, and after a few years had to dig it out - not an easy job. It had suckered exuberantly, and was showing no sign of slowing down. Still, if any space should open up, I will definitely consider some of the newer, more compact varieties of this multi-purpose shrub.

We didn't look at the big trees. That would have been fun, but we didn't have time, and while we could use the shade in our yard, again, there's no room for a live oak or a majestic gumbo-limbo.

Apart from the delight of so many flourishing native plants, just strolling the shaded pathways was a pleasure. I would love to return with my sketchbook and just draw for a few hours.

Shady paths and an abundance of plants - A gardener's dream
Sunshine Mimosa in foreground

Against better judgment, I bought a beach morning glory, Ipomoea imperatii. This morning glory doesn't climb, and in our loose, sandy "soil" expands its territory quickly. I hope I can keep this one in check in a large pot. I'll let it sprawl down the sides some, and with any luck I'll keep it tidy.  The dark green foliage and the white flower, with just the slightest hint of yellow-green, are very attractive.

I  had one some years ago, and it not only overran our yard, but was in the process of marching through the one next door. There was nobody living there at the time, so I didn't have to fess up to my sins or explain what I was doing  with trowel and hand rake on somebody else's property.  I overdid the cleanup, though, because it vanished from our yard as well.

Ipomoea imperatii - Beach Morning Glory

The  basal rosettes of  starry rosinweed, Silphium astericus were incredibly vigorous. It wasn't the promise of bright yellow flower heads, but the fantastic raspy leaves that made this plant irresistible. I can't wait to try to draw it. I planted it in an area that gets strong sun, but also some shade. It's doing well, and growing upwards.

Starry Rosinweed - Silphium astericus

A lovely trellised Pentalinon luteum, wild allamanda, or hammock viper's tail, was another "must-have" once I had seen it.  There is one in our yard, but it suffered with Hurricane Irma in 2017, and had been looking puny. I wasn't even sure if it would survive another year. Sure enough, as soon as I planted the "replacement" nearby, the old plant put out a burst of new growth. That's great. As far as I'm concerned, you can't have too much of this gorgeous flowering vine. The large, tubular flowers are a glowing lemon-yellow. They last only one day, but there's always another bud getting ready to bloom.

Pentalinon luteum in Full Bloom

Pentalinon blooms profusely, and over a fairly long period. Its shiny bright yellow-green leaves make it attractive even when it is not flowering. (If I don't irrigate it during our dry and windy winters and early spring, it may lose some or most leaves and go into a brief period of semi-dormancy).  Now and again various species of oleander moth chew on it, and they have the irritating habit of going after the flowers before tackling the leaves. Unless the infestation is particularly serious, I usually let it run its course, because the day-flying oleander moths are beautiful too.

Pentalinon luteum, Flower and Buds

We almost overlooked the bird peppers (Capsicum annuum var. glabriusculum) sitting on a bench in partial shade. Bird pepper is the ancestor of all our hot peppers. In the U.S. it occurs  naturally in Texas, Arizona and Florida. It also grows in the Bahamas, the Caribbean, and parts of Mexico, Central America and Columbia.

 You've got to pick the fruits fast, because the birds, especially mockingbirds, gobble them. The peppers have a nice burn that is great for imparting extra flavor to what you are cooking. It's another plant I killed by neglecting it totally.  I'm still looking for just the right place for it. There are plenty of spaces where I could tuck it away, but I want it close enough to the patio so that it's easy to tend, and also so we can watch the birds. I may decide on puttiing it in a large pot for now.


Last, but not least, sea lavender, Argusia gnaphalodes, a member of the Borage Family. Decades ago I saw it in Aruba and fell in love with it. I had never seen it on a Florida beach. The linear leaves are a pale, felty gray. It is a resident of sand dunes, and an important beach stabilizer. It is endangered now because so much beach habitat has been developed.

It's not frequently available, due to the difficulty of propagating it. I placed it in a barren spot near the seawall, where the soil is scarcely rich, and where the drainage is almost too good. The site is in easy reach of the garden hose, though, so I am pampering it with plenty of water until until it has established itself. Then it should be pretty much a "cast-iron" plant that will thrive on neglect.

I also bought a book, A Land Remembered, by Patrick D. Smith, that chronicles 3 generations of a "cracker" family coping with the Florida wilderness, and the changes brought by increasing settlement. That's a pretty impressive haul, but there were so many more things, especially wildflowers, that I wanted to try, or even multiples of the same plant.

Having a good native plant nursery within reach is a real luxury. When I first moved to this area in 1993, native plants generally were available only once a year at the plant sales hosted by  local chapters of the Florida Native Plant Society. Most of the plants had to be brought in from Florida's east coast. We owe the founder and owner of All Native Garden Center, John Sibley, who is a stalwart supporter of the Florida Native Plant Society both statewide and locally, a huge thanks.


And now that I have a selection of beautiful new plants, I need to get back to my sketchbook!

Pentalinon luteum

Tillandsia fasciculata - The "Cardinal" Airplant

 Tillandsia fasciculata is in the process of blooming now. Some in the yard have flowered already, but others are just getting started. It is one of our most striking Tillandsias, and people often mount it on driftwood or trees in their front yards. This species of Tillandsia makes pups, and will form large colonies over time. Sometimes people traveling through the Big Cypress mistake large T. fasciculata colonies in the treetops for squirrel nests.

The colony below started as a tiny rosette - the windblown seed obviously found a foothold in the rough bark of the palm tree. I didn't put it there. It's even bigger now, because this photo is several years old. The plants in our yard were here when we bought the property in 1994. They have grown exuberantly over the years. I have several additional young specimens that obviously started from seeds.

Tillandsia fasciculata
Probably var. densispica

This species sends up a branched inflorescence. As is the case with Tillandsias, the bracts, not the flowers, are the main show. Immature bracts are mostly pinks, yellows and greens. The illustration below isn't the greatest, but it  gives some idea of the colors and shape of the immature inflorescence.  Side branches are just beginning to form.

Young Bloom Spike, Tillandsia fasciculata

As the plant matures the bracts take on much more saturated colors. The sketch below shows one fully opened purple flower, and 1 flower bud. Both the mealy, "scurfy" texture of Tillandsias and the shininess of the bracts can be hard to capture in watercolor. To suggest the scaly surface, I have tried light applications of colored pencils, dry brush watercolor technique, going over the dried surface with white watercolor or marker,  granulating watercolors, and combinations of techniques. (Granulating watercolors are made of pigments that don't dissolve evenly, but form little clumps of color as they dry. They are great at creating the illusion of texture. I use them for things like bark, rocks, sand, rust, or hairy surfaces). I still haven't found a one-size-fits-all technique.


Reds and greens in watercolor look shiny while wet, but dull considerably as they dry. (This actually can be a problem with watercolor in general). In the study below, I went over some of the red bracts with colored pencil to give them more punch. It's pretty obvious which ones I retouched.

Watercolor and Colorerd Pencil Study
Tillandsia fasciculata

 The scurfy texture of  Tillandsias  comes from specialized structures covering the leaves called trichomes. "Trichome" in general is a term meaning hair, or hairlike extension. In the case of Tillandsias, it refers to specialized structures consisting of both live and dead cells which absorb water and nutrients. On these species they are roughly cup-shaped, and mounted on a stem leading to the middle layers of the leaf where photosynthesis occurs.

Rough Sketch of Much Magnified Trichomes covering Tillandsia Leaf from  Above
Stems don't Show

The trichomes are very good at reflecting light, often giving the plants a silvery or "haloed" appearance. This feature reduces water loss by the leaves, and also protects them from harsh sunlight.  Most of Florida's native tillandsias look more silvery than hairy, but the trichomes are obvious under magnification. (Tillandsia pruinosa, the "fuzzy-wuzzy" airplant, is the exception).  In general, the hairier  the  plant, the more drought it can survive.

Tillandsias also reduce water loss by using the photosynthetic process seen in cacti and many succulents, "Crassulacean Acid Metabolism, or CAM. It's complicated, so I'm just going to say here that the stomata of the leaves stay closed during the day, and open at night. Another way of putting it is that it is sort of the opposite of regular photosynthesis, which goes on during daylight hours.

Once common, this airplant is now state listed as threatened due to illegal collecting, habitat loss and the ravages of the Mexican bromeliad weevil. In the early part of the 20th century, truckloads of blooming Tillandsias and orchids were harvested for sale "up North." Though the beetle has been documented in our county, the Tillandsias in our yard have been spared so far. I  keep an eye on them and hold my breath.

Tillandsia fasciculata
Briggs Nature Center Boardwalk

Tillandsia fasciculata grows in hammocks, cypress swamps and pinelands. It occurs in the Florida Keys through the north-central peninsula, Mexico, the West Indies, Central America, and northern South America. There are several varieties.  I am assuming that the ones here are var. densispica, because the other native varieties are rare and limited to Dade County. Tropiflora Nursery in Sarasota sells a rare white variety, Tillandsia fasciculata var. densispica alba.

They receive no care at all in our yard, but are protected in or under shrubs or trees. If I am watering something  nearby, I may give them a sprinkle too. If one falls off onto the ground, I stick it back between branches to reduce the chance of rotting.

Insects, lizards and other small animals may shelter in their leaves. Once a beautiful corn snake crawled out from a large bromeliad I had brought indoors to draw. Catching it to take it back outside was no easy matter! I have seen a photograph of a Florida panther sheltering/hiding behind a large Tillandsia fasciculata colony.

All in all, it is yet another of Florida's beautiful native plants, and like too many of them is besieged by our activities. 

Tillandsia balbisiana - The "Coke Bottle" Airplant

For the last couple of days I have been working hard on a drawing, as opposed to a sketch, of Tillandsia balbisiana. Eventually it will become the base for a watercolor painting, but it is arduous going. Some of its common names are "northern needle leaf," "inflated wild pine" and "reflexed wild pine." "Pine" here refers not to the tree, but to pineapple. Tillandsia is a genus in Bromeliaceae, sometimes called the "pineapple family."

Quick Sketch of 2 Tillandsia balbisianas

A more descriptive common name, "Coke bottle airplant," refers to  the way its leaves come together about half way up the plant, almost as if tied, and then spill over a more bulbous base. The leaves, which continue up the bloom spike for quite some distance before the flowering bracts form, curl and intertwine gracefully. Figuring out which leaf starts where isn't always easy. Aggravating as it can be, this plant makes me want to draw it again and again.

It is in the process of blooming now. The first sign of impending bloom is the appearance of a spike in shades of pinks and mauves, as opposed to the regular gray greens of the leaves.

Beginning Inflorescence - Watercolor and Pencil Sketch

The inflorescence eventually will branch. While the leaves have a powdery, scurfy appearance, the stem and  flowering bracts are smooth and shiny. The flower is purple, but the bracts, which become a deep rosy red at maturity, are the real show.

Intermediate Stage in Flowering
Note the difference in texture between stem, flowering bracts, and leaves

Tillandsia balbisiana also forms pups. Several colonies of this species are scattered through the scrub oaks of the Naples Preserve, and various trees along the boardwalks of Corkscrew Swamp and the former Briggs Nature Center. (The nature center now houses offices of the Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission, but the boardwalk is still open). It is a rather small airplant, but considering the flowering spike, can get a good 28 centimeters tall.

The leaves of this plant vary from a sweet green to almost silver gray or even reddish, depending on how much sunlight it gets. In the United States it occurs in only in the southern and central Florida peninsula. It also grows in as the West Indies, Mexico, and Central and South America. It is neither rare nor common in Florida.

It once was considered neither rare nor common, but now is state-listed as "threatened" due to habitat loss and the damage from the accidentally imported Mexican bromeliad weevil, Metamasius callizona, which has devastated vast stands of Florida's native Tillandsias. So far, research in finding effective biological control has been inconclusive at best. The plant is sometimes available from select nurseries licensed by the state. The plants in our yard are descendants of rescues which I was allowed to keep.

Tillandsia balbisiana
Watercolor by Jeanette Lee Atkinson, 2008

Non-writing or non-drawing people sometimes think that those of us who do just somehow "shake it out of our sleeves." In spite of the implication that we don't have to work very hard, that we somehow are more talented than they are, or know some secret that they don't, I think it's meant as a compliment.  But it's much more a question of fanny-in-chair time rather than inspiration. And while said fanny is occupying said chair, other things are happening all around that don't get drawn or written about, because there just isn't time. And there's always the laundry.

The Butterfly Effect

Late last September I noticed a cloudless sulphur butterfly ovipositing on a privet senna. (Privet senna used to be called Cassia ligustrina, but now has been reclassified as Senna ligustrina). Not long afterward I found 4 big healthy caterpillars busily eating the flowers, and one small caterpillar on a privet senna around the corner. I'm always excited to see caterpillars, but this time was special because it was the first time I had seen sulphur caterpillars in our yard since Hurricane Charley gave us a near miss in 2004! (We weren't quite so lucky with Wilma in '05, and Irma in '17).

Cloudless Sulphur Caterpillar on Privet Senna

I've seen only the occasional large sulphur in our yard since Charley, and certainly none none laying eggs.  At the same time, I have cast many an envious glance across the canal, where sulphurs frequently visit the red flowers in that neighbor's yard. And I haven't seen the gorgeous orange-barred sulphurs at all for years.

Orange-Barred Sulphur
Female: Top & Middle; Male: Bottom

Sulphurs don't have it easy. Once as I was sketching a newly-emerged cloudless sulphur dry its wings, an anole jumped out of nowhere and snatched it right off the chrysalis shell. The caterpillars don't seem to be toxic, so they would be vulnerable to birds. Years ago I observed a tiny spider -  sucking on a hapless sulfur caterpillar many times its size. I went back a few hours later to see how much the spider had expanded, but couldn't find it or any traces of the caterpillar. The spider either stowed its prey somewhere better hidden, or perhaps both got taken by a bird. I didn't see how the spider could injest the whole caterpillar in one go without exploding!

You Can Just Make Out the Spider in the Top Right
Cloudless Sulphur Caterpillar on Bahama Cassia

I've always blamed the hurricanes along with habitat loss for the disappearance of the sulphurs in our yard. And indeed, the entire insect population visiting us has declined significantly in both numbers and number of species over the years. But that really doesn't explain why there are sulphurs across the canal, and not here, or why I still get other butterfly species reproducing in the yard. It also doesn't explain why I got plenty of the smaller barred yellow sulphurs once I introduced their larval host, pencilflower. (Stylosanthes biflora).


A little reading and a little web surfing has led me to something of an aha! moment, and a no-brainer at that. I came across a post by Florida wildflower specialist Craig Huegel, in which he commented that he never had seen sulphurs ovipositing on cassias that weren't blooming. He also wrote that he preferred Bahama cassia over privet senna because it blooms more regularly, while privet senna blooms in sporadic flushes. It turns out that the orange-barred sulphurs prefer Bahama cassia over privet senna as well. (Bahama cassia now seems to be classified as Senna mexicana var. chapmanii).

Newly-Emerged  Female CloudlessSulphur(I think)
Blue Porterweed, Stachytarpheta jamaicensis

As the photo with the spider shows, I had Bahama cassia at one time, but it wasn't in a good place. Over time it declined, and then died. Once you've had privet senna in a no-lawn yard like ours, you'll always have it, due to its vigorous self-seeding. I like the plant for the bamboo-like effect its dark green, pointed leaflets, as well as its striking deep yellow flowers.

It's supposed to be drought-tolerant, but it is short-lived for me. Maybe it is just too hot, sunny and salty for it here, or maybe I just don't love it enough. Over the years I've pretty much abandoned it as a garden plant, letting it grow in the waste places in the yard where nothing else thrives. Of course, it gets ratty quickly, and then I cut it down. If I were a sulphur butterfly I wouldn't lay any eggs on its desiccated leaflets either. So without thinking about it consciously, I've stopped providing reliable host plants for the large sulphurs.

Privet Senna - Senna ligustrina

Another thing that I did along the way was remove a large firebush (Hamelia patens) that was growing in absolutely the wrong place. It was a great favorite of the sulphurs, who like the same flowers that hummingbirds do. It also gave cover for birds, and mockingbirds and red-bellied woodpeckers loved its berries.

There's no guarantee that I'll get a resident sulphur population again, but it's worth trying. I can't do anything about hurricanes or the overbuilding, but I can get a Bahama cassia, take care of the privet senna, and see about finding a place for another firebush. It's so easy for one seemingly small action to set a chain reaction in motion. As former Florida senator and governor Lawton Chiles once said, "The knee-bone's connected to the jawbone."(He really did say that).

The Comfort of "Exceptional Images"

It's been a while.

I have been coping (not very well) with serious health issues in my family for a couple of months. We seem to have turned a corner now, though we're not out of the woods yet.

While the crisis was building I felt utterly helpless. I was drawing frantically - somehow drawing was one of the few things I could do. Otherwise I felt as if I were walking in deep sludge. Even the most basic activities seemed to take enormous effort.

A Dead Dragonfly (Saddlebag)?
My husband found it and brought it to me to draw.

Drawing was a way of blocking out feelings, a way of mitigating, if only temporarily, the desperation and frantic torpor that threatened to overwhelm me. But once I put the pencils down, the anxiety returned with a vengeance.

Then I read the post Art and Nature are My Healers by Elizabeth Smith. She described her path to reconciliation after her mother's death, and it seemed as though she had written it for me. She quoted a passage from Clare Walker Leslie's Drawn to Nature, in which Leslie recounted losing her own mother, and the solace she gained from drawing: "Every day, while my mother's illness progressed, I would find one image outdoors that I could hold onto, like a marble in my pocket that I rubbed for nourishment and balance. This looking out at the world helped my looking in, towards my own pain."

Shell and Horseshoe Crab Molt 

In her post Elizabeth detailed her search for, and sketch of a "daily exceptional image," and how it is helping her to deal with her own grief. When I read it something fell into place, and I realized what I was missing.

I needed to stop blocking, and start opening myself to the wonder of what I saw, even if it left me more vulnerable to fear and anxiety. Strangely enough, the process has been comforting. The weather then wasn't conducive to outside exploration, so instead, I searched my sketchbooks for drawings that had meaning for me, and finding them gave me a glimpse of happiness again. I have sprinkled some of them throughout this post.

Elizabeth's blog reminded me of the first peaceful day I remember after my mother's death, which was devastating.  I sat outside in the shade and drew Gaillardias. It took a long time to make this very simple line drawing. I  meant to color it in later, but decided it was better as it was. My mother was not one for frippery or fuss. She had a clean, simple esthetic. She loved a handful of flowers in a jar much more than a florist's arrangement. Drawing these cheerful flowers became an act of devotion, a simple moment of celebration of all my mother had meant and forever will mean to me.

Gaillardias - for me and my Mother

Anxiety and grief never really go away. But drawing with an open heart, not drawing to block out reality, is grounding. The drawings don't have to be perfect; they don't even have to be good, but the very act of recording something that has impressed us with its beauty, its form, its simplicity, whatever it may be - can give us the serenity to keep going. As Elizabeth wrote, "I could be mindful about something exceptional that did not cause pain, but instead promised something more." Thank you, Elizabeth and Clare.

June Beetle

Two of my favorite books by Clare Walker Leslie :

Nature Drawing: A Tool for Learning. Prentice-Hall. 1980. Revised Printing, Kendall/Hunt. 1995. - This is one of my favorite books, period. I often go to it when I feel like I am in a slump, or need an infusion of energy and enthusiasm.

The Art of Field Sketching. Prentice-Hall. 1984. Revised Printing, Kendall/Hunt. Another great book to get you motivated, up and outside.

Clare Walker Leslie's books are available at Amazon, and probably other vendors.