The Great Unwrapping For Florida Winter


The cold snap from the previous post lasted that entire weekend. Out of an abundance of caution, I kept the outdoor orchids wrapped under towels and shirts, while the potted orchids were kept inside. On Monday, winds died down and temperatures became more seasonal.

It was time for the great unwrapping.

I first tackled the two vanilla bean orchids planted in the ground, the ones I had wrapped in old shirts to give them a warm hug. At first glance, I noticed one plant had a yellow leaf peeking out from the lower hem of the shirt. It must have gotten left out of the hug in my attempt to protect the new growth at the tip of this climbing plant.

Once I untied the sleeves and unbuttoned the shirt, though, the green vine was as green as it was before the cold front.

The nearby ginger plant, which had not been protected, looked as if it had taken a beating from this recent cold front and the one at Christmas.

Leaves were dried and curled, yellowed and browned. I clipped out the most damaged sections to clean it up and I’m hoping for the best.

If it doesn’t recover, I can divide other gingers I have in the yard and transplant the division to this area — or, use it as an excuse to try something new from the nursery.

Next, it was time for the orchids snuggled beneath towels. I carefully removed the staples that held the towels in place and gently removed them away from the leaves and flower spikes.

One orchid had been in full bloom before the cold snap. Once unwrapped, the flowers looked tired and wilted. Well, it was a nice try, I thought.

I gave the orchid a drink of water and a day later, the flowers perked up to continue their cycle.

On the other side of the yard, I was most worried about a white orchid. Before the cold arrived, its flower spikes were lined with plump blossoms — and I didn’t want a repeat of the lost blossoms of a nearby purple orchid following the Christmas cold front.

To my immense relief, the white blossoms were full and healthy looking.

My excitement grew a few days later, when this happened.

Just as surprising was to see how some plants weathered the cold like champions, like this bromeliad. It started flowering just before the cold front — but it never seemed to notice. Its flower has continued to mature.

I think the greatest surprise was the double-red hibiscus. Prior to the cold front, it was full of buds and I worried the cold would destroy them. It didn’t. In fact, this hibiscus has never looked so good — and I think I have the cold to thank for that! Iguana activity has slowed to a crawl and/or a cold-induced coma.

Since the great unwrapping, the calendar has turned a page. It’s now February and Punxsutawney Phil predicted six more weeks of winter. Naturally, the little varmint made his prediction while the northeast was in the grip of a polar vortex. I’m sure a lot of people had a few choice words for Phil.

As you can imagine, the hysteria over groundhog predictions is lost on South Floridians. I mean, we may get hysterical over a 50-degree day — but not six more weeks of Florida winter.

In any event, I wondered if Florida had its own groundhog forecaster. A Google search later, I learned that the Sunshine State does not. It does, though, have a conch that makes its home at the Florida Keys Aquarium Experience. Unlike Phil, the conch emerged from its shell — and like Phil, it saw its shadow.

That’s six more weeks of winter — Florida winter — and that’s great news for Florida tourism (which increases its advertising budget on the coldest days up north to lure travelers southward) and for my ground orchids.

Following the cold snap, they died back to the ground. My thought was to not dig them up, but to leave the ground orchids alone. The ground never froze, so whatever was buried should be alive.

As of this writing, new green shoots are appearing — because six more weeks of Florida winter is six more weeks of Everywhere-Else spring.

Wrapping Up For Winter


This is what a cold front – a real cold front – looks like in South Florida. This may not be a Buffalo, NY-worthy cold front and it certainly can’t compare to the wickedness of the weather in California or Alabama, but by South Florida standards, this weekend’s weather was cold. This sort of cold – the kind that comes with wind chills and falling iguana warnings – isn’t very fun.

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A Coconut Apple A Day . . .


I’m not saying I know everything about coconut palms and coconuts, but I do feel I have a decent working knowledge. This all comes courtesy of being with Joe, a palm enthusiast, for 35 years and gardening with him in South Florida for 8 of those years. Imagine my surprise when I was on a late-night, channel-surfing expedition and discovered “Les Stroud’s Wild Harvest” on my local PBS station and something entirely new about coconuts — at least to Joe and me.

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Does Spring Fever Exist In South Florida?


As I write this, I’m sitting on the patio by the pool, enjoying one of the last cold fronts to reach all the way down the Florida peninsula. The temperature is hovering around 80 degrees and there’s a coolness on the breeze.

It’s delightful! It’s the most perfect spring day in May — make that the most perfect northern spring day in May, because this is March in Florida.

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Sunflowers For Ukraine


This isn’t the post I wanted to share today, the one I was hoping would end my writing slump — but the situation in Ukraine is occupying all of my thoughts and a frivolous post is impossible now.

Like many of you, I am deeply saddened and angered by the Russian invasion, an action that has destabilized a world that still hasn’t shaken off COVID. Quite frankly, hasn’t the world had enough? Haven’t we all had enough?

On Facebook, I’m in a group called “View From My Window.” In the past two weeks, so many people from Kyiv and other areas of Ukraine have shared their city and country window views. What they’ve shared is beautiful. What they’ve shared are their lives.

Equally touching are the comments from around the world, all expressing concern and hope and prayers.  The photos, though, have made the war more personal because these are real people with real lives. Now, I am consumed with thoughts of strangers who shared their photos — ordinary people who are, in so many ways, just like me, just like you, just like us.

In my opinion, the vast majority of people in the world want nothing more than to wake up peacefully, go to work, bring their children to playgrounds, walk their dogs, plant something on their terraces or in their gardens, enjoy a delicious meal, laugh with family and friends, watch some television, and go to sleep with thoughts that tomorrow they will be able to do the same.

They do not want war. No one wants war.

Yet, here we are. Again. It seems the decision to go to war is always made behind closed doors by people — usually men — who have nothing to lose. Those with everything to lose are the innocents in harm’s way.

It’s as journalist Walter Cronkite once said, “War itself is, of course, a form of madness. It’s hardly a civilized pursuit. It’s amazing how we spend so much time inventing devices to kill each other and so little time working on how to achieve peace.”

I’m not sure how to end this post, other than to say I recently learned the sunflower is the national flower of Ukraine — and so I have filled this post with some of my sunflower photos. Some were spotted in a field, and others I’ve grown over the years.

I’ve read the sunflower was given this distinction in Ukraine because it represents power, strength, and warmth — three traits that can just as easily describe a people. Each sunflower here is a small token of support for the gardeners and all people of Ukraine.

Please, stay safe. The whole world is with you.