Atlantic Beachlife

It’s a lot of work, living under the trees. They spew flotsam and jetsam on the daily: Sabal palm seeds, tiny acorns from various old oaks, the spiky ball of the Sweetgum, and the dreaded fruits from the majestic Queen palms that flank the garage. (It’s not native, I know. Don’t come for me. There are other out-of-zone plantings in the landscape here, but I know better, now.)

If you’re not out there blowing off your deck seven days a week your place will look unkempt with environmental litter  as though the residents have died inside, so be prepared for a neighborly wellness check.

In other words, you can’t take your foot off the gas when it comes to outdoor maintenance if you want to live in Atlantic Beach. You must be committed to living under the trees. Not only will there be sweeping or blowing, these beauties often lose limbs in windy conditions. It’s a good idea to establish a relationship with a reputable tree-trimming service, too, because you’ll need that. Forget about hiring a friend’s friend from college. They might be great in the early days, but tree care is hard work and you don’t need someone who dips out and is suddenly unreachable when you need work done. Quotes from aborists and tree-trimmers can vary, with many offering the “Atlantic Beach discount” which is really a surcharge because you live in Atlantic Beach and therefore should pay more. Um, no. Keep looking. You’ll find an honest resource, and when you do, nurture that relationship.

It’s going to cost you, being an environmental steward. You should consider that when looking at real estate in Atlantic Beach. Set aside funds for tree care and, if you can, put aside extra in case you ever have to remove a tree (God forbid) because you’ll be paying into the Atlantic Beach tree mitigation fund to the tune of about $1,800 per mature Sabal palm, roughly. Hopefully your realtor is advising you of these facts before you fantasize about putting in a pool or adding on to your residence. It might be your property, but you don’t exactly own the trees. You just get to take care of them and make damn sure nothing happens to them on your watch. Those are the kind of neighbors we want here in Atlantic Beach.

And for all this effort, you will reside together with the wise old Bard owls who will call in the night to their owl community sometimes creating a beautiful chorus of asking and answering that reverberates through the neighborhood overhead, as has been done for all time. We are just small people passing beneath them, who occasionally look up in wonder at these majestic creatures and sometimes their cute owlets, whose baby owl faces show such wide-eyed curiosity. The gorgeous hawks who perch on trees and mailboxes and playground equipment, staying still long enough to snap a good pic while you pass by, looking up,  as you enjoy an evening walk through the twisted oaks of Atlantic Beach.

If you’re in the park you might glimpse a small fox dashing by as you trudge along with your (leashed) dog.

The trees offer so much shade and therefore relief from the hot Florida sun that you just know why God made these southern Live oaks and how crucial they must have been for people who had to live here before air conditioning.

All the trees and native plants are so important to the overall ecosystem that each new homeowner should be made to complete an as-yet-to-be-designed course in Native Plantings for Your Area that offer ideas for creating a living, natural landscape that contributes to the community while providing an opportunity for individual creativity/preferences. (And know the fines for removing native trees, even if they do have 38 other mature native trees on the property.)

Earlier this year the Beaches Town Center planted a trio of stately palms to occupy a prime piece of real estate: the grassy knoll where Atlantic and Neptune Beaches meet, the literal last stop before Atlantic Boulevard becomes the beach.

It’s such a focal point that I once mused here whether the site deserved a piece of public art, like the sculpture that seems (to me) buried at the 5-way stop. But for all these years that grassy mound only ever housed the Beaches Town Center Christmas tree.  Magnificent and festive, that fresh evergreen that sat majestically at the center of town, to the delight of most people paying homage to Christmas.

The other 11 months of the year, however, simply nothing was in that space. So I think we can all concur that these palms are lovely to look at year-round. 

But are there darker forces at play here? Several have argued that the landscape improvements seen throughout the Beaches Town Center was the good excuse needed to finally move the Christmas tree to a low key location. That the improvements project was merely the vehicle to do it. 

The three new palms were festooned with lights, and this new Christmas look debuted as the holiday season commenced. And while most were complimentary, some folks were, well, some were shocked by the loss/relocation of the Christmas tree, and took to social media to work through their complicated feelings on the matter. 

So, the town tree, which does appear decidedly diminished by its new locale, can be glimpsed outside the police and fire station at the 5-way stop. And tonight, those trio of palms are standing inexplicably unlit at the edge of Atlantic Boulevard,  feeling quite the outcasts.

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It was late spring 2010 when Nick and I made this documentary short on hurricanes – history and preparedness – early in our career of working together, and long before the Nick and Not His Mom show was even a thought.

Come along on this short journey through the beaches’ experience with tropical storms and hurricanes, and begin to plan now for the storm season we’re just beginning here.

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I flew home to Michigan – the Detroit area – recently, and hung out in my childhood home with my old Dad, and my sister. It was a week off from my real life.   She took a week off, too, and traveled home from her California, and so for a sweet seven days we were three Shminas.  Roaming southeast Michigan in search of fall color and Nordstrom, and hanging out with our brothers and their families, in between.

Since moving to Florida in 2000,  finding my little beach neighborhood and nestling right on in, we’ve gone home to Michigan every single year except 2008.  The kids love it.  Going to Michigan every summer (I’ve come to realize) is as much their anticipated summer vacation as mine was for all those years our family trekked to Sleepy Hollow resort in South Haven.  I’d spend all year looking forward to that one week. I’d dream about how great it would be if I ever got to live on the Lake Michigan coast.  It was a terrific fantasy, one I’d marinate in while I waited to fall asleep at night, for years and years.

Imagine my joy when seemingly out of the blue fate led us to west Michigan!  To the wonderful town of Grand Haven!  We found an excellent family home in the wooded, hilly sand dunes above the beach there; it was a blissful two years.  I say I thought I’d died and gone to heaven, and it’s pretty much true.  Nearly every day I drove past the beach, saw my Lake Michigan through the seasons for two whole years.  I thought I was the luckiest.  A wonderful man, two beautiful and happy children, and me – all of us living on the shore of Lake Michigan (with deeded access! – a big deal, real estate-wise! – to the beach).

I still have pangs of longing, and wondering about how our life might have unfolded had we stayed and raised the family there.

But along came an opportunity, and it’s good to take a chance, to say yes to something you believe will be good for your career, your life, your family.  It was so hard to let go of Grand Haven, to leave our parents and families behind,to pack up our tiny children and leave the cold, gray winters (okay, that part wasn’t so hard) behind for a new land (and climate) in coastal Florida.

I’ll admit that I’d sometimes wish I could live in a warm, coastal place, but I only ever had those feelings momentarily, and it seemed so far fetched I didn’t really envision such a life.  I accepted my murky, cold, and slushy winters, while envious of my sister’s life in her California climate.

Then, suddenly, Florida!  Suddenly we lived here, and not only here, but in the charming town of Atlantic Beach, no less.  Within walking distance of the prettiest beach in the area.  Oh yes, my husband and I were both totally happy with our change of venue and climate.  We traded one perfect place for another.  And the next thing you know, it’s 13 years later.

So every year we spend a couple of weeks of summer up in Michigan, our family visiting grandparents and cousins.  It’s such a whirlwind of going here and going there, that it hardly feels we get to sink our toes into Michigan.  Sure, we’ve gotten to spend an afternoon on the beach or swim in Lake Michigan during some of our visits, but not always. And while the visits are great for family connectedness  I’ve felt increasingly frustrated with going, but not getting to feel it there.

Last year, then, I decided to go up in the fall.  I had four great days, just me with my Dad and the Michigan trees.

It was so nice that my sister decided to do the same thing this year,  and make a long weekend a whole week,  so that’s what we did.  A week together in Michigan in the fall, just us with our Dad – in our family home, each in her former bedroom.  It was kind of awesome.  A middle-aged mom gets to be a daughter again.

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, the weather we’ve been having these past ten days!  It’s beach weather, gardening weather, biking, jogging …. whatever your outdoor pleasure, it’s been fantastic here.   I see lots of cars occupying the nicely discreet (but accessible!) public parking Atlantic Beach offers its visitors; more than usual, for January. The rest of us are taking to the beach on foot, or bike, scooter or golf cart.  It’s been far too fabulous a January to play couch potato this year.

Florida winters are my favorite.  Having arrived in my little corner of ‘paradise meets dream-come-true’, I do relish cooler weather, the relief from the heat and humidity of May – September.  I like that we get our cold snaps, that we can actually wear our cute jackets and boots and pants, and that our hair can blow freely under a winter blue sky with low humidity.  This is the time of year when the phone calls come: “What are you doing over spring break this year?” from friends and relatives in the dark, gray, cold north.  There, they are surfing the Internet for flights to Florida while my son is surfing the waves on our neighborhood beach after school.

So while I love this weather for many reasons – one is that we haven’t had to run either the heat or the air conditioner (a nice break on the utility bill), I won’t mind if our 75 degrees becomes 55 degrees, either.  Chances are, it will.  Winter here is changeable that way.   As long as we don’t have to endure hard freeze nights, when we scurry to cover those tropical plants we insist on planting despite their not actually being native to this zone (they are so pretty! and most winters we don’t lose any of them anyway!), I find our beaches winter weather quite delicious.   I love biking in cooler temps, wearing a windbreaker but not arctic outerwear.  I love working in the yard and not sweating.  And I also thrill to the spike in temps from ‘normal’ (mid 60s) to warm (73 – 80 degrees!) when we beachlifers feel extra blessed and sun-kissed in January.  Instagram and Facebook are rife with photos that virtually shout, “We love where we live!” —and are implied invitations to our friends far and wide  (whether or not the photographer intends it!)

The other day, we saw our photo posted repeatedly on Facebook…. but it wasn’t just our photo.  It was dozens of people from our little beach town who happened to see the same breathtaking sunset sky, and had to snap, and share.   Yeah.  We love where we live.

 

 

 

 

 

And last Saturday, oh boy, did I ever love it.  I got started on my 2013 tan.  I put on sunscreen, grabbed my summer beach chair, an armful of beach reading, and passed a lovely few hours in the warm winter sun.  My black-polish-pedicure was about the only thing that said winter that day.