I’ve always loved the end of the year. That week between Christmas and New Year’s when time stretches into jelly and nothing is urgent except clearing the fridge of leftovers before the next party. There’s something special about the last week of the year, getting to revel in an ending.
We as people don’t take much time off in the winter (especially in the US), but kids are out of school this week and many offices close down, and even for adults there’s little sense of urgency. You can just be. Moving slowly, eat a lot, laugh deeply.
I close this year in the South, from the shores of Florida. I’ve been in this state for a few weeks and will be here a few longer. It hasn’t dipped below 60 degrees the entire time, so I’m in no rush to leave. I’ve bumped into people from Rochester and Syracuse, a blast of Upstate New York in the sunshine state. Drivers here are reckless and angry; only in New York City have I seen their rivals (and New Yorkers will eventually stop for pedestrians. Here? It’s questionable.)
Bevy is back to have engine issues. Another sensor (or the very same one?) is acting up, overheating, and causing shutdowns. A frustrating predicament. The engine is fine, but this one small computer problem can bring everything to a screeching halt. We got one prognosis from a dealership in Fort Lauderdale, but I have a second opinion scheduled before I have to go nuclear with repairs.
Her limitations mean we’re not driving much or moving anywhere with haste. The engine has abruptly shut off twice in the last three weeks and idling in congested lanes of traffic seems to be the key to disaster. So we take our time.
Christmas was spent on the very southern tip of the US, in the Everglades. We walked the shores of the Florida Bay, paddled a canoe up canals, and got up close and personal with so many manatees. (the manatee bounce back is proof that humans can do good, when forced.) Gentle, snorting giants of murky seas, a close relative of the elephant.
All else was birds in the park. Vultures particularly throughout the campgrounds. They are eerily used to people and will let you get quite close. Diamond enjoyed chasing them but they could fight her if they wanted to – they probably weigh close to the same. White ibis is abundant, another testament to the power of human-monitored (and forcibly respected) natural environments. Crows everywhere and egrets too. Once a crocodile from a great distance, but nothing close.
Spiders too, their webs stretching great lengths between mangrove roots. And have you looked quite closely at those lately? Alien plants, endlessly crawling towards the salt. Ankle-breaking roots and long creepers toward still waters.
I’ve seen an iguana once since crossing into Florida, and it was in a Planet Fitness parking lot of all places. A large one too, easily close to five feet long. It scuttled under the van as we passed and disappeared.
Our campground neighbors were respectful and it was a quiet holiday overall. Campgrounds like these in national parks are not private, but they do have more conveniences than you get in the woods. It’s been mostly parking lots since I got down here, and it was nice to stay in one place for several days.
The new year brings a new route and a long road back home. I’m not rushing north to the cold and the ice, and hopefully by the time I get there in April spring is blooming. But there’s no rush. Miami’s bars have their doors flung open, the waves are rolling on the beach, and I am luxuriating in winter in the south.
