Every time I complain about the lack of nature in downtown Fort Lauderdale, I try to remember to get outside and stroll along the sterile riverfront. Even though it’s completely channelized, with gorgeous (to the yachtsman’s eye) seawalls and mooring points, complete with flowing fountains:
This dead river (called the New River, a literal translation from the native American Himmarshee*) is also landscaped. And some of the trees in the landscape look like they might actually be vestiges of the pre-development past. In a park right by the river stands a grove of large live oaks, with a few mangos thrown in to remind us of the subtropical fruiting trees in our recent past.
And in these oaks on Friday at lunchtime I came across a family of woodpeckers feeding young of the year–it was lunchtime for everyone, I guess! I saw blue jays cavorting from tree to tree, ringing their bell-like call instead of the harsher “jay” scold. Along the sidewalk under the shade of the oaks, a pair of Ruddy Daggerwing butterflies did their mating dance, beneath a huge oak bough festooned in resurrection fern:
(If you click the picture to enlarge it, you can see just how luxuriant the foliage is; we’ve obviously been getting a lot of rain since the rainy season began last month.)
Since I don’t take my big camera for these downtown excursions, all I have is the view through my cellphone camera, so don’t expect to see too many riveting images of the urban critters I encounter… The plants, bless their little hearts, stand still, for the most part.
Along the riverwalk, I saw a pair of Atala Blue butterflies flitting above the coontie patches that are planted here and there. And there are other trees along the waterfront that also have life in them. I saw a couple of ball moss plants on an oak right along the riverwalk:
I just love these miniature Truffula tufts wherever I see them; to know that they can grow in the downtown heart of the city, as well as in my front yard does my heart proud. I don’t know that I’ll ever grow to love the city as much as I do the wild places, but finding that nature can carry on in the heart of this city certainly points to some sort of possibility of redemption.
*The story of the Himmarshee, or New River, is intriguing. The local chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution history page has a fascinating anecdote told by Mrs. Leslie Rigdon about how the name came about. As soon as I can verify (perhaps with a local FAU prof), I’ll post details.
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