Back roads yield surprises

You never know what you'll find when you take back roads

When I drive to my daughter Amber’s house in Winter Garden, I do my best to avoid busy roads. Instead of taking Florida’s Turnpike to State Road 429 to save 10 minutes, I take my time meandering along twisty two-lane roads up and down hills, through tree-lined hamlets and along sections of untamed woods that — at least for the moment — have eluded a developer’s eye.

It’s a pretty ride filled with peacefulness and possibilities. Before ending at Amber’s house, my 30-minute trip takes me through the outskirts of four towns — Clermont, Minneola, Montverde and Oakland.

My drive through Clermont is on unpaved roads through a rural area at the north end of town. The clay roads are bumpy and give my car a perpetually dirty face, but they force me to slow down and in this too-much-to-do-and-not-enough-time world, that’s an important reminder.

Sharing clay roads with horseback riders 

On the back roads of Minneola, I pass a peach orchard where I’ve gotten in the habit of monitoring the progression of the trees from bare branch to blossom to young fruit to harvest.

 

Peaches just beginning to ripen

From there, it’s a short trip to scrub jay territory, where I often pause in my travels to photograph Florida’s only endemic bird.

A Florida scrub jay with nesting material in its beak

My trip through Montverde is brief, paralleling the highway, but it leads me to Oakland where I travel beneath an impressive tunnel of ancient oaks and pass by an encouraging mix of older wood-frame homes. 

A tunnel of oaks welcomes drivers entering the aptly named town of Oakland, FL

On this stretch of road — in refreshing contrast to many new subdivisions — no two houses are alike. Steeped in character and rich in history, each home reflects the personality of its owner. While driving through Oakland, it’s easy to forget it’s the 21st century. It sends me back in time to the mid-1900s.

A yellow tabebuia tree stands alongside one of the beautiful old wooden home in Oakland

Oakland gives way to Winter Garden overflowing with downtown charm. Although I usually go directly to my daughter’s house, on the trip back home, I often do more meandering, taking even smaller, less traveled side roads along the way.

I have a strong belief in the importance of taking time, slowing down and observing my surroundings. Recently, that belief was reinforced when I decided to turn onto some previously unexplored side roads in Oakland. As I rambled along the narrow dirt roads on the north side of town, I came upon an unusually tall field fence encircling many acres of well-trimmed lawn scattered with trees.

In the distance, I saw large, black-and-white striped animals grazing. I pulled over for a better look. Could they possibly be what I thought they were? Zebras? In a field next to a dirt road in the little town of Oakland? I reached for my camera to zoom in for a closer look.

A zebra?  In Oakland?  Yes!

Sure enough, a herd of zebras was grazing in the field. I’d stumbled upon Briley Farm, a privately owned exotic animal ranch where zebras, miniature donkeys, peacocks, wildebeest and a majestic-horned, ancient breed of African Watusi cattle are among the many animals roaming the manicured acreage between Lake Apopka and the Oakland Nature Preserve.

Although the only other critter I saw besides the zebras was a brightly feathered male peacock strutting his stuff behind a ‘Peacock Crossing’ sign, I had no reason to complain. Seeing the zebras — zebras! — was more than enough to make my day.

A peacock perched in a tree behind a 'Peacock Crossing' sign on a back road in Oakland

There are times when the need to get somewhere in a hurry is paramount. There are times when it’s important to stay on schedule. But there are also times when throwing the timetable away makes the most sense of all. My no-hurry route home yielded an extraordinary discovery — proof that you never know what treasures await around the next bend.

The sound of a woodpecker drilling bamboo

Every morning for the past week I've listened to a downy woodpecker pecking away at one of the older canes in the middle of a large clump of Giant Timber Bamboo (Bambusa oldhamii). The sound is so loud, I can hear it even when I'm inside the house with the doors and windows closed. This morning I decided to take a video to share the sound with you. If you enjoy it, I'd love it if you shared it with others.

What would you do if you saw someone littering?

Although there’s so much litter in Lake County, I never actually see anyone throwing trash out a car window. I’m on the roads a fair amount. I know the trash is there because I see it all the time. What I don’t see is anyone making the mess.

Until yesterday.

I was taking my usual back roads home from town when I noticed a spiffed-up yellow sports car stopped in the middle of Fosgate Road alongside Grassy Lake Elementary School in Clermont. I had just turned off Turkey Farm Road onto Fosgate so the car was right in front of me. It was a quiet afternoon with no one else around, and since I wasn’t in a rush, I slowed down to see what was going on.

Upon my approach, two lanky, well-groomed teenage boys got out of the car and spoke to the driver before the car sped away leaving in its wake a large bag of trash. The kids, each one holding a soda in his hand, sauntered toward the sports fields behind the school with that ‘I-know-everything-there-is-to-know-about-everything’ air assumed by so many 14- and 15-year-old males. The paper sack, which obviously contained heavy objects like empty bottles and junk food detritus, stood out on the road like a looming brown wart.

I knew the bag of trash came from the car. After years of fretting over litter, picking up other peoples’ trash and writing repeatedly about my frustration with this seemingly insurmountable problem, I finally caught someone actually littering.

An opportunity had arrived to take action. But what should I do?

Several options sprung to mind: A) I could ignore the situation entirely and continue on my way. B) I could pull over to the side, get out of my car and pick up the trash to take home and throw out with my own garbage. C) I could confront the boys about their behavior.

I chose the third option. I know it can be dangerous to confront strangers who are breaking the law but the boys I saw didn’t look frightening. They reminded me of my own sons when they were that age, a bit cocky and maybe full of themselves, but not intimidating or threatening.

“Excuse me,” I called as I leaned across the seat, “is that your bag of trash in the middle of the road?”

The boys looked at each other incredulously before one of them managed to utter the single word, “No.”

“It came from that car though, didn’t it?”

Another look passed between the lads before the same boy who spoke before muttered, “Yes.”

“Well, pick it up,” I demanded, in my strongest ‘mom’ voice.

I told them to put the trash in a receptacle and tried to make them understand the irresponsibility of their actions and the effect littering has on the environment.

The boys did as I said. I’d be lying if I said they did it with any great enthusiasm or understanding but, nonetheless, they removed the bag from the road and hopefully deposited it in a nearby receptacle.

I’ve repeatedly wondered what kind of person litters. How can anybody be so thoughtless and unconcerned about the consequences of his behavior?

Even though I had just encountered a couple of teenagers littering, the problem is far too widespread to blame on any single group of people. However, in order to solve any problem, you have to start somewhere. Choosing to confront the two kids may not have been the smartest option to take in these dangerous times, but at least I acted. I spoke up and took a chance to make a difference.

The causes of littering include apathy, ignorance and a disconnection with the environment. Rolling down the window and speaking out is one way to say, ‘Enough!’ For me, it felt like the right decision, but it may not be the right choice for others. What would you have done?

Fresh grown veggies taste best

Anyone who has ever gardened knows how much tastier homegrown veggies are than their store-bought relatives.

That's especially true of broccoli, a highly nutritious member of the Brassica family, which — despite its reputation as a "super food" — ranks low in likability by the public. For most people, potatoes, tomatoes, lettuce and corn are more welcome at mealtime than a serving of broccoli florets.

While recognized as a super food because of its nutritional value, broccoli is not considered one of the more popular vegetables

I can understand why so many people are not crazy about this cruciferous vegetable. Until I met my husband, I wasn't crazy about it either.

When I was a kid, we rarely ate broccoli, but when we did, it didn't come from the garden or even from the produce market. Like most mid-twentieth century suburban families, the broccoli we ate came in a box from the frozen food section of the grocery store.

When it was time for dinner, my mother took the box out of our freezer, cut it open with a pair of kitchen shears and plopped the solid mass into a pot of boiling water. After cooking in too much water for way too long, everyone in the family received a dollop of the dark green mushy mass, which would then ooze its way into everything else on the plate.

To my young mind, broccoli wasn't so much a food as a contaminant. I put more effort into thwarting its seepage into my mom's lamb chops than shoveling it into my mouth.

That changed when I met my husband. Although I had no gardening experience in childhood, I married a man who did. Had it not been for Ralph's green thumb, I might never have known the difference between overcooked frozen vegetables and fresh-picked edibles from the garden. Thanks to him, our family has dined on homegrown food for over four decades. Our children grew up eating fresh-from-the-garden fare, and it makes me happy to know our grandchildren are doing the same. Apparently, the gardening gene is inheritable. Ralph got it from his parents and passed it down to our children.

Our granddaughter is excited about the broccoli she helped her Papa pick in his garden

Ralph's garden currently includes 164 broccoli plants in various stages of maturity. He began planting in August, sowing new seeds of about a dozen different varieties every other month to ensure a continuous crop. 

A small portion of one of Ralph's two raised containers garden where he grows much of the vegetables we eat

Like most gardeners, my husband experiments by growing numerous varieties to find the one that will grow well in our climate, resist disease and pest problems and produce plenty of flavorful florets. His top performer so far is Piracicaba, a broccoli from Fedco Seeds that doesn't produce a big single head.

People who don't garden may not realize that not all broccoli comes in large heads like those found in the produce bin at the store. Once the main head is harvested, some broccoli varieties respond by sending up numerous side-shoots of smaller florets. Those side-shoots have thinner stems and, while more time-consuming to pick, their tenderness and mild flavor more than compensates for any extra work involved.

Instead of producing a large head, Piracicaba bypasses that step entirely. Named after the Brazilian city where it was developed, this warm-weather-tolerant species focuses all its attention on the production of multiple tender, tasty side-shoots.

Instead of producing one large head of broccoli, a multitude of mini florets grow on Piracicaba broccoli plants 

As much as Ralph and I enjoy eating all the different kinds of broccoli he grows, we both prefer the flavor and texture of small florets. Not only is Piracicaba our favorite for taste, it has not fallen victim to fungus attacks during rainy spells as have several other varieties. Neither has it been bothered by diseases or insect infestations.

Needless to say, we eat plenty of broccoli, sharing extras with family and friends. I once was a broccoli pusher — pushing the mass of overcooked goo around and around on my plate. Now I push others to give broccoli a try. The best-tasting foods are the ones you grow yourself.

If you're interested in reading more about our broccoli-growing experiences, check out these posts:

Broccoli is the beneficial harvest of March

Son demonstrates frair for growing, surprises

When house meets tree

I'm always on the lookout for interesting trees and old buildings.  Today I found both in one location.

The house - more shack or shanty than anything else - is located on a back road in Yalaha.  Broken down and falling apart, the wooden structure sits beneath an ancient oak.

The tree's branches add to the intrinsic beauty of the tattered house. Not only is the tin roof shaded by large limbs, some overhanging branches actually rest upon the leaf-covered metal.

The abandoned house and live oak are growing together.  Ferns and vines have already begun to root on the roof. When people relinquish control, nature takes hold.

As I sat in my car snapping off pictures I couldn't help but wonder about the structure I'd found.  In the past, this house sheltered people.  Now its only inhabitants are probably small animals and plants.

I suppose that's how it should be.  We humans think we're so clever. We cut down trees and erect buildings assuming they will last. But nature knows better. It has all the time in the world to reclaim its treasures.

The 'trumpeting' sound of sandhill cranes

Of all the sounds birds make, there's nothing quite as loud, distinctive and eerie in an I-feel-like-I'm-in-prehistoric-times sort of way than the trumpeting song of sandhill cranes.  That's especially true when you're standing - as I was - only 20 feet or so away from a pair of bellowing birds.

By the way, the bamboo the cranes are next to is Yin-Yang Timber Bamboo.

For birds and people: Some decisions are hard to make

On Valentine's Day, my husband Ralph installed the remaining five of seven bluebird boxes that Doug Spencer of Astatula built for us.

Less than a week later, a pair of beautiful bluebirds was already checking out the houses!

First, the male and female sat on top of one box. Then each bird took turns looking inside before flying to another box.

At the second box, the male flew down to the entry hole while the female waited on top. 

The male stuck his head inside for a good look around. I guess the female got tired of waiting because she flew down to the entry hole shortly after, while the male was still in the process of squeezing inside the box.

A few minutes later, the pair flew out and over to the first box again, repeating the process: Sit on top. Look in the opening. Squeeze inside. Fly back out.

As Ralph and I watched, we couldn't help but wonder what the birds were thinking. The conversation we imagined them having went something like this:

Male: How about this box? It looks nice.

Female: It's too soon to tell. Let's go look at the other ones.

Male: They're all the same. What's wrong with this one?

Female: It's a little rustic. I was hoping for something maybe a little more modern.

Male: It's just a nest, dear. What difference does it make how it looks?

Female: Are you kidding? It makes all the difference in the world. I'm the one going to sit here day in and day out while you're off doing whatever it is you do. It has to be comfortable. End of discussion.                  

Male: You're right. You're right. I'm sorry. I know you're right.

Although I didn’t see the birds in the afternoon, they were back the next morning repeating the same pattern.

“I guess they’re having trouble deciding,” I said to my husband as we sat at the kitchen table. Ralph was eating breakfast, but I was too preoccupied with the bluebirds to pay much attention to food.

“At least they came back,” I muttered, more to reassure myself than expecting a response.

Surprisingly, a response was forthcoming.

“I can relate to their indecision,” Ralph said as he put down his spoon and turned toward me. “They’re probably trying to decide if it’s just too much work to fix up another place. Maybe they don’t know where to begin. Maybe they’re thinking they should just stay where they are.”

I looked at him, smiled and said, “It is birds we’re talking about, right? Not something else…?”

Ralph and I have recently been struggling over an upcoming building project. It’s such a multifaceted undertaking, we’ve been unable to decide which aspect to tackle first. Like the bluebirds, we’ve been wavering, going back and forth from one possibility to another.

“You know,” I said, “maybe I should stop watching the birds for a while. They’ll settle when they’re ready — if they decide to settle at all. Maybe we should do the same.”

For two days, we did just that. Oddly enough, the bluebirds seemed to be taking a break from house hunting as well. By the time they returned, we all seemed ready to move forward.

“The bluebirds are back,” I once again exclaimed at breakfast. “I don’t see them carrying any nest-making materials yet, but I have a feeling they’ve chosen a box.”

My husband gazed out the window with envy. Empathizing with his look of longing, I let him know we weren’t far behind.

“I’ve decided too. Let’s start upstairs and work our way down. There’s no need to rush. We can just take our time.”

When it comes to homebuilding projects — by birds or by people — sometimes making the initial decision can be the hardest part of all. Once decided, everything else falls into place.

Can't get enough bluebirds? Me neither! More stories and photos here:
Calling all bluebirds

Bluebirds make me happy

Bluebirds of happiness

Elusive bluebird joins property's wildlife

15 birds of February

February may have been a short month but there was no shortage of bird sightings on or around our Groveland homestead.

The highlight for me was seeing so many bluebirds right here on our property.

Below are three of many pictures (I'm embarrassed to say exactly how many I took...) of male and female bluebirds checking out the nesting boxes Ralph installed on Valentine's Day (best gift ever!)  More about that in my upcoming Simply Living column to be posted this Monday, March 2nd.

When it's not chowing down on insects, this little Carolina wren has been a frequent visitor to a suet feeder hanging just above the lantana on which it is perched.

A catbird perched in a sumac bush always mews at me when I pass by its territory in my rowboat.

So many chipping sparrows came to my birdfeeders this month.  These small brown-capped biddies with a black stripe going through and a white stripe above their eyes travel in flocks and supplement their diet of grass seeds and insects by filling up on the millet and other smaller seeds in a general birdseed mix.

In addition to the chipping sparrows, other regular visitors to our property were a pair of sandhill cranes.  Although the lake is too high for nesting this year, a pair has nested here in the past and it's very likely that they're the ones returning to search for bugs and birdseed that on the ground.

When they're not on the ground pecking for seeds, collared doves like to sit high up in the branches trees like this sycamore.

I took this picture of a great egret a few miles away from where we live in a small wetland where the nesting sandhill crane (pictured above) was sitting on her eggs.

A solitary pied-billed grebe, swims through the morning mist in the calm lake water.

On my way home from town one afternoon, I noticed several killdeer skittering across a nearby field.

The bright red plumage of this male cardinal looks especially against the yellowy color of a clump of Asian Lemon Timber Bamboo on the west side of our house.

I saw this American robin and several of its friends in a feeding frenzy gobbling down the fruit of a Chinaberry tree off Grassy Lake Road in Clermont.

I haven't seen any male redwing blackbirds at our feeders but quite a few females have become regulars this month.

A sweet little phoebe is well camouflaged among some older gray canes of bamboo.

No turkeys on our property during February (at least none that I saw) but I did notice a small flock feeding in the side yard of a house along Hwy 19 in Groveland.  I was so taken aback by their appearance in this less semi-urban setting that I had to turn the car around and go back for a second look.

And finally, a picture - not my best shot - of a bald eagle preening its feathers while perched on top of a snag across the lake from our house. A few minutes after I took it, two crows dive-bombed the eagle. Please visit my YouTube channel to see a short video of that encounter as well as several other wildlife movies I've made over the past couple years.

Mew-mew-mew...cat or catbird?

From the safety of a brier thicket, a gray catbird calls out a series of sounds warning me to stay away.  I did stay away but I also took this short video of the mewing bird.

Crows harassing bald eagle

A bald eagle sitting atop a dead tree is trying to preen its feathers. But no matter how well groomed an eagle is, a couple of crows don't want it in their neighborhood. Although it doesn't seem to faze the eagle, the crows attempt to scare the large predator away.

A small wetland: One egret and a nesting crane

If you are driving on busy Rt.19 just north of Groveland, you might miss it. With all the semis speeding up and down that narrow stretch of two-lane highway, taking yours eyes off the road can be a risky move.

But, for those of us familiar with that thoroughfare, there are treats to be found in the still-rural area.

Groveland resident and acclaimed duck artist John Harris, told me about the sandhill crane nest he noticed in a small wetland area just north of town.  This morning as I headed south on 19 from my house, I made a point of looking for the spot he mentioned and found it practically across the street from our bamboo nursery, BeautifulBamboo.com.

The great white egret is fairly obvious but see if you can find the sandhill crane's nest...

This particular swath of moist ground is a beautiful place - a small watery area surrounding a fairly large island where egrets often roost in the evening. This morning, however, in addition to one great white egret, I also found a sandhill crane sitting on a nest just as John said I would..

A closer look at the crane on her nest

Even though I know that's where they like to roost, I always find it surprising to see large birds like herons and egrets perched atop bushes or tall tree branches

Pucker up!

It’s not Christmas, but I’m standing beneath mistletoe.

I’m not waiting to be kissed but I am wondering: Mistletoe? In the sycamore tree? Is that even possible?

It is. Finding this Florida native plant in deciduous trees is common in winter when circular clumps of mistletoe stand out against bare branches.

Green mistletoe is easy to see when a tree is no longer covered in leaves

That’s how I noticed the mistletoe. For several months, I’ve been watching the seasonal flutter of falling leaves. While many land on the ground, a substantial number of the large, brown, leathery leaves also end up in our gutters. My husband has agreed to clean the clogged gutters but not until the last leaf has finally left the tree.

Sycamore leaves everywhere

His procrastination turned me into a relentlessly diligent leaf monitor. However, as fewer and fewer leaves remained, I became aware of a patch of greenery that didn’t belong.

The greenery is mistletoe, a parasitic evergreen plant that grows in the upper branches of deciduous trees. Mistletoe has an unusual way of landing in those trees.

Mature mistletoe plants, Phoradendron laucarpum, bear small, showy flowers that attract pollinating insects. A pollinated flower can take a year or longer to develop into a white-fleshed berry that contains one extremely sticky seed. 

Mistletoe berries beginning to form

A bird eating a berry — the fruit is toxic to most animals except birds — will either excrete the seed while sitting on a branch or rub its beak against the limb in an attempt to dislodge the sticky seed from its beak. Either way, feathered fliers act as inadvertent mistletoe propagators, transferring the plant from one location to another.

By rubbing its beak against a branch, birds like this chipping sparrow help spread mistletoe to different arboreal locations

Once deposited on a branch, the sticky mistletoe seed germinates in the sun and sends a feeding organ similar to a root into the tree bark to absorb water and nutrients from underlying tissues in the host’s branches. The feeding organ called haustoria, can penetrate only thin-barked trees such as sycamore, laurel oaks, water oaks, chinaberry and elms. Although this harms the tree — a tree covered with too many clumps of mistletoe, can lose enough water and nutrients to die — it benefits the mistletoe, enabling it to thrive independent of soil.

Parasites are like that. They suck life from their hosts to gain a foothold on life itself.

Before I began monitoring the tree to let my husband know when the last leaf had fallen, not only was I unaware that mistletoe grew in Florida, I hadn’t given much thought to the nature of parasitic plants. Now that I have, the thought of kissing someone under a parasitic mistletoe plant seems rather unsettling.

But I’ll do it. I will. As soon as those clogged up gutters are finally cleaned out, I’ll be standing beneath the sycamore tree — right under that clump of green mistletoe. Let the smooching begin!

Bathing behind the 'boo - A sandhill crane takes a bath

From the upstairs window, I watched a sandhill crane indulging in a little afternoon delight. 

(No, not that kind of afternoon delight!)  

She was taking a bath in the shallow water along the shoreline while her mate stood guard nearby, doing a bit of preening of his own.

The video is 2:04 minutes long.

Open wide!

The sandhill cranes are back, not to nest - the lake level is too high for that - but to visit the birdfeeders and poke around the ground in search of fallen seeds.

Almost every day, sandhill cranes arrive.  Sometimes just one crane. Other times, a couple. On one occasion, two pairs arrived separately until the second arrivals chased the first pair away. I guess Ralph and I aren't the only ones with territorial feelings about the property.

I took this picture yesterday of one crane making what looks like a squawking motion with its mouth.

Sandhill cranes often open their mouths to bellow at other cranes flying overhead but they're usually looking skyward at the time.  This crane wasn't looking skyward and wasn't even making a discernible sound.  It might have been yawning or just stretching its jawbones.  Or maybe it was trying to get my attention.  If that was the case, it succeeded.  I was totally riveted.

Letting nature sow (most) of the seeds

I've always wanted a field of wildflowers and now I have one.  Below is a picture of an expansive stretch of Fumaria officinalis, commonly known as earth smoke.

A field of wildflower

Interspersed among the earth smoke is pink sorrel, cow thistle, some Spanish needle and a scattering of sunflowers that are just beginning to sprout above the other flowers.

Spanish needle (Alba biden) attracts many butterflies including this zebra longwing

Of all those plants, the sunflowers are the only ones I planted. Nature took care of the rest.

Although earth smoke has been growing throughout our property for years, I only recently discovered its name thanks to Malory Foster who responded to a post by Joanne Zimmerly Wilson on our Facebook page Florida Flora.

Joanne posted a picture of the plant with its delicate purplish-pink flowers and asked if anyone knew what it was.  Malory quickly replied with an ID.  By doing so, she answered one of my longtime 'what-plant-is-it?' mysteries.

The following are few links with more information about Earth Smoke:

A Modern Herbal - Fumitory - Botanical.com 

Wikipedia - Fumaria officinalis

Fumitory - Herbs2000.com