There is so much going on right now–March feels as if somebody ratcheted up the calendar and the pace to full-tilt Social Whirl, with the Festival of the Arts, Boca Bacchanal, Savor the Avenue, the Miami Film Festival, the Delray Affair just around the corner—not to mention the march of late-season black-tie events designed to capture those last-ditch donations before the wealthy snow birds head north for the summer.
All of it is fun, but I had to remind myself this morning of the quieter side of springtime, the part that keeps me grounded as well as smitten with where I live, no matter what’s going on in the social world. A few of those things: the fact that everything that blooms is blooming right now, from my blazing yellow tabebuia tree to everyone’s hibiscus, to bougainvillea and beach daisies; those two wacky renegade ducks I saw on the beach this morning, the same ones who like to dive bomb swimming pools along Old Ocean; the mourning doves you can hear all day because the windows are open; the Delray St. Paddy’s Day parade this Saturday; fresh strawberries; apple cider doughnuts from the Delray Green Market, new moons and on and on.
All the gourmet tastings and sophisticated concerts are wonderful, but nothing beats who we are and what we have here in terms of sheer natural wonder, the tropical magic we take for granted, the unsettled spring weather, the quivery way the air feels right now.
Just putting a plug in for the non-events. The ordinary. The day-to-day stuff that means springtime in South Florida. It’s what makes everything else work, after all.
