Marjory Stoneman Douglas

"There are no other Everglades in the world. They are, they have always been, one of the unique regions of the earth; remote, never wholly known. Nothing anywhere else is like them."

If we consider Henry Flagler, the railroad tycoon and real estate developer, as the father of Florida, Marjory Stoneman Douglas must surely be her mother. Where Flagler sought to subdue Florida and civilize her, Douglas protected and nurtured her. She fought Big Sugar and the Big Cypress Jetport. Her book, The Everglades: River of Grass, changed the perception of many Floridians about the Everglades from being a useless swamp to that of the literal and metaphorical heart of the state.

She was seen by many, mostly those intent on using Florida for their own financial gain, as a troublemaker... an old woman with nothing better to do than throw a monkey wrench into their plans. As the population of south Florida grew, the Army Corps of Engineers sought to drain flood prone areas. Douglas was often the lone voice of dissent, speaking up on behalf of the Everglades, whose voice was the croak of bullfrogs, the bellow of gators and the scolding of the red winged blackbirds. Developers, the Army Corps and politicians don't speak their languages, so she translated.

Mrs. Douglas died in 1998 at the age of 108. Without her, the Everglades would most likely be many more thousand square miles of ticky-tacky homes and strip malls. One could not ask for a better mother.

Ruby Red?

When I was in Florida last month, my wife picked up some grapefruit at Pell's in the Farmer's Market. It was a little late in the season for Ruby Reds, but I had a craving and my mom's tree had none on it. When she returned home, I tore into one to discover the worst grapefruit I have ever eaten. If it were a woman it would have been Jessica Tandy. I was thoroughly disappointed... not that I didn't eat it. mind you. Picking through the rather dry fruit, I came across a couple of seeds which had sprouted. It really was an old grapefruit.

I love citrus trees. I guess it comes from growing up in an orange grove. There is nothing better than the smell of orange blossoms, except maybe for orange blossom honey. I've been meaning to get a tree or two to put on our sunroom, and was thinking of a kumquat or calamondin. I have no illusions about getting fruit from them, I just want something to remind me of Florida in the cold winter months.

So I took my handful of sprouted seeds and planted them a bit of Florida sand... because that is what I knew first.

What you know first stays with you, my Papa says
But just in case I forget
I will take a twig of the cottonwood tree
I will take a little bag of prairie dirt
I cannot take the sky

Patricia MacLachlan
What You Know First

Pell's grove is just down the street from our old farm, and the fruit that I ate as a kid probably came from the same stock as theirs. We lost most of our trees in the frosts of the early 80's, but as we didn't have a commercial operation going, we didn't really do much to protect them. I'm sure most of Pell's trees made it, or are at least grafted from those trees.

So I now have six little seedlings of what I hope are Ruby Reds. We'll see if they can stand Massachusetts too. They, and I, will have their own little bit of dirt to remind them.