Sherree Tales

We're moving away from orchids this week. Most of my plants suffered frost damage this winter, the first winter in 12 that I have had frost at this place. I do not have a sprinkler system and there really are too many plants for me to cover when frost threatens. In spite of the damage, most are producing spectacular blooms even though their foliage looks ragged. This photo is of a bromeliad. It actually has several spikes like the one pictured, but this picture looked the best. The spikes are three to four feet tall.

I first acquired this plant from an old man who lived in the swamp on the Tamiami Trail between Miami and Naples. He lived there alone and was a retired engineer. On a wooden fence just off the road was the word "Orchids" in giant letters. He led me through his swamp/orchid sanctuary on a combination of dirt paths and boardwalks. Strung between the cypress trees was barbed wire, and hanging from the barbed wire were hundreds (maybe more) of potted orchids. He said the barbed wire was to keep the orchids from slipping when the wind blew too hard.



As we were finishing our tour, I spotted this bromeliad sitting at the edge of the swamp, half in the water and half out. I was blown away. The old man said, "Do you want it?" Of course I did, but I couldn't imagine how we were even going to reach it much less dig it up. He told me to wait and disappeared for a few minutes, returning with two tools. Without hesitating he climbed over cypress knees and waded through black water until he reached the bromeliad. Using the shovel and a machete, he managed to free a side pup which he presented to me. We put the pup in a box and jammed it in my car (even as a pup, it was quite large). This bromeliad has had many generations of pups which I have given away and/or moved to several different homes since I first acquired it. I have three clumps of it at my current home. Two are flowering just fine (yes, I know they are not called flowers), but one might not make it.



I visited the man a couple of years later. He was recovering from abdominal cancer surgery. I swore I was going to go back every weekend and help him. I never made it. Then hurricane Andrew hit. I passed by his place on my way to help family in Miami, and it looked like he didn’t' make it either.



Clyde Butcher, the black and white photographer, now has his gallery and studio there. What a perfect place for a nature photographer and the old man's spirit.



Have an adventure this weekend.