Old Miami

This is what much of South Florida, east of the Everglades, looked like until the post WWII building boom began the destruction. The "pine rocklands"
are unique to Miami-Dade County, parts of the Keys and a few Bahamian islands. Of the 225 species of native plants that grow on them in Dade, 20 percent can be found nowhere else, and their survival is far from guaranteed.

The understory palm, growing beneath the pines, is the low growing saw palmetto (Serenoa repens), used in several natural remedies, especially for prostate health.  It has nasty little spines along the petiole, hence the "saw" in the common name.

I bicycled over to this area with Sparky recently, but it's fenced off, which, while keeping people (and dogs) out, doesn't prevent invasive, non-native plants from taking root. Still, it didn't look too bad, so I guess the county is taking care of it. This particular site is only a few acres and, you guessed it, a new development is going up next door, although it seems to be stalled for the moment. (One of the few benefits of the recession?)

Many years ago, I was listening to Car Talk on National Public Radio, and someone from Pembroke Pines, a municipality in Broward County, just north of Miami-Dade, called in with a question. The Car Guys decided that pine trees couldn't possibly grow in a climate like this. Ha! Actually, these are a subspecies of  the southern slash pine, generally known as Dade County pine (Pinus elliottii var. densa).

They are very slow growing, which results in a dense, resin-filled wood that's resistant to termites. No wonder so much was cut down; every house built through the 50s had floors made of it. Fortunately, when old houses are being torn down, much of that precious wood is now being recycled.

The last photo is of a similar habitat, but this was taken in the National Key Deer Refuge on Big Pine Key. It gives the impression of being hot and dry, but this was a September afternoon, and it was hot and humid and the skeeters were out in full force.

Architectural plants

I am endlessly fascinated by the architecture of plants. Here are some examples, starting with a couple of shots of a silver gray Bismarckia noblis palm.

The next is a banana leaf unfurling.
















Then we have a silver gray bromeliad, but I don't know its name.

The final one is a cycad.

A cool tool for opening coconuts

A few months ago, I saw one of these simple and efficient little gadgets used to open coconuts, and knew I needed one. I have four highly productive coconut palms, but we don't benefit from their fruit because it's such a hassle opening them up. (We once resorted to an electric drill, which, while successful, made a mess of the bit. And no way am I employing the traditional machete method).

These are made in Brazil and were being sold on eBay for $25. The business end is pushed into the coconut (where it attached to the stem), twisted and pulled out.

I asked for one for Christmas and it just arrived (better late than never), but I have yet to actually try it; I can't reach any of the ripe coconuts and none have fallen in the last couple of days. Stay tuned ...

Violence of the palms

                     These were inspired by the photos taken by my teacher, Lama Karma Chotso, who happens to be a terrific artist and photographer. Notice the lethal edges.

Stinker

One of the stinkiest stinks (take my word for it) is a rotten coconut. Of course to Sparky the mutt, it's the canine equivalent of a moth to a flame.

My backyard, minus one coconut palm

The coconut palm has gone. (See Aug. 1 post.) This is the new view from the kitchen window. We decided the situation was simply too dangerous, not least because one of the dogs decided to make a place to snooze near the trunk. (Even so, "death by coconut" remains anecdotal.)

Out of habit, I still automatically steer a course around the danger zone.

Its removal presents a whole new set of problems, though, because the plants, including orchids, that grew in its shade are getting too much sun and must be relocated. We have a vera wood (Bulnesia arborea) and a bridal veil (Caesalpinia granadillo) -- such a beautiful tree -- that will eventually fill in and create a nicer shaded area.

Why I shouldn't have grown coconut palms

The first photo is of my backyard; the second is looking straight up from the same spot.

I grew eight coconut palms from seed. Two succumbed to lethal yellowing and one to Hurricane Katrina. Wilma caused one of the remaining ones to go from vertical to a 45 degree angle, but at least it's not likely to drop coconuts on anyone.

However, I still have three, like this one, that could do serious damage to someone -- or the dogs -- but I can neither afford to have them trimmed nor cut down.

Perhaps a passing hurricane will take them out...

Mysterious coconut palm

This ragged-fronded palm has always looked like this. I have no idea whether it's subspecies, a variety, or what. It's a few blocks from my house and I cycle past it most mornings en route to work.

If anyone can tell me anything, please do.