Florida used to be beautiful. It is so sunny that the ground used to shine back clear blue skies.
When I first arrived in Florida 27 years ago, the wildlife was everywhere. Trees and bushes had spirit. The woods were full of surprise peepers, chirpers and lizzies. I had tree frogs, anoles and marsh rabbits visit my garden house. Weather rained on time.
Today, that stunning scene in my photo is vanquished. Not only are the trees and the grasses and the horse paddock gone, the adjoining woods were flattened to mulch. The freshness of rain splashed horses is gone. I have been the visual witness of the demise of wilderness beauty. Because I spent so much time studying the outdoors either painting or on horse trails, I am keenly aware of this lack.
This isn’t the sad story of too much concrete. This is the awareness that our beauty isn’t dying: it is already dead. Part of the deaths are the animals whose homes were these tree. Those creatures had no place to run or hide. They died in their homes, nests, burrows.
Isn’t that a horrible thing to say in a blog? Blogs are supposed to be fun to read. And usually, I try my best to satisfy. However, what’s good is also telling the truthful warning that we are at the point of self sabotage as a species.
I haven’t painted outdoors in about 10 years. When the spirit of the land evaporated, landscape paintings became painting exercises rather than reaching into the spirit through art. Instead, I now turn inward to my own tiny plot of land. Having trimmed the garden severely didn’t kill it at all; my garden is sprouting back quickly. And the new plant babies are thriving in their home.
My garden home is a sanctuary to me and to creatures in my neighborhood. The Sharp Shinned Hawk tops the Norfolk Pine during the winter. I get Monk Parrots, cardinals, zebra-longwinged butterflies and the host of neighborhood cats. They come to my little plot of real Florida to remind them of home.