Photo Journal

A Fieldtrip to Fairchild

One of the most delightful things about a garden is the anticipation it provides.

W. E. Johns

I took a day-long field trip to the Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden in South Miami last week. I didn’t know what to expect, but what I found was magic. I also found shade, a series of small lakes, a huge variety of palm trees, a spiny forest, a rain forest, lots and lots of lizards, lots of birds, and a few heart pounding moments…

A curious little lizard greeted me just outside the visitor center.

To see we must forget the name of the thing we are looking at.

Claude Monet

(This isn’t hard when you don’t actually know what it is. A beautiful flower by any name.)

Peeking out.

A gulf fritillary butterfly lands on a cactus blossom in the Spiny Forest garden.

An iguana finds a place in the sun.

Tropical water lilies reflect in a tranquil pond.


Beneath the fig trees it’s another world.

The lower gardens look inviting from the overlook.

I step into the lower gardens with the Egyptian Goose.




A very long iguana crawls beneath the mangroves.

A great egret creeps up to the water’s edge.

A white ibis looks over its shoulder suspiciously.

The unexpected happens - an apparently sleeping crocodile stands up and walks across the path in front of me.

I continue take pictures while internally freaking out.

Then the ibises, who were suspicious and wary of me, follow the crocodile across the path…

and I was worried that I was too close.

Nature, for me is raw and dangerous and difficult and beautiful and unnerving.

Andy Goldsworth

It is easy to forget, when you are surrounded by beauty, that nature is unpredictable and definitely NOT always safe, even here in this beautifully planned and well-maintained garden. That is part of the appeal of exploring outdoors to me - the demand that I take it seriously and weigh the dangers against my desire to see everything. I think I stayed far enough away from the crocodiles at this garden. I did not walk closer to the one I saw crossing the path. I turned around and went back the way I came after taking these photos. Of course, that’s how I saw the next crocodile…

This was a photo-heavy post. I hope it all comes through ok. I was just so excited to share the whole experience. Thanks so much for being here. I will see you next week!

P.S. The ibises were fine. They wandered around near the crocodile for a few minutes, and then just walked away and back down the path.

P.P.S. If you’re interested in Fairchild Gardens, click here.

A parting shot - this crocodile was across the pond from me - much further away than it might appear. I loved the symmetry with its reflection in the water. Its mouth is open, which looks menacing, but it was completely still. {They keep their mouths open when lying in the sun to help regulate their body temperature.)

Lizard Happiness

Travel too fast, and you miss all you are traveling for.

Louis L'Amour

Iguana crawling

slowly over sunlit stone -

nowhere else to be.

With a curious little head tilt

alert and content.

You make me understand how wonderful it is for little lizards when they find that one special rock that's perfect for sunning themselves on. You make me lizard-happy.

R. K. Milholland

The days are warmer and more lizards are out basking in the sun. I especially love watching them at the marina - some crawling openly, some hiding behind rocks and foliage, all keeping their heads high and alert; enjoying the warmth. I hope you are lizard-happy this week! It makes me happy to think so.

Thank you so much for being here.

Iguanas were not the only lizards I saw this week - these two little ones were a little more discrete, but still basking in sunlight.

The Silence of Pelicans

The poignancy of a photograph comes from looking back to a fleeting moment in a floating world. The transitoriness is what creates the sense of the sacred

Allen Ginsberg

Pelicans sailing

slowly toward me -

squadron of silence

it seems impossible such a large bird can fly so gracefully

and float so easily.

Powerful wings lift them, soaking wet, from the ocean,

as they fly, and turn, and dive back into the water.

The heavens are full of floating mysteries.

Thomas Buchanan Read

Tuesday morning was exuberant chaos on the beach. The waves were crashing, the wind was thundering. Surfers were shouting to each other back and forth about the best spots, then fighting their way through the chop past the break. Along the coast, people who gathered for the sunrise were laughing and talking and taking many, many pictures.

Then came the pelicans, drifting gracefully on the wind, wings wide, almost, but not quite - hovering. I looked up and the hush of delight I felt created a vacuum of sound that seemed to be so beautifully long but was really only a moment. I was sure when I let down my camera that there would be a group of people around me, all staring off to where the pelicans flew, but it was just me - returning to the sea of sound. And that was also magical. Like it was just my moment. What a gift.

Thank you so much for being here. See you next week!

A line of pelicans flying close to the surface to spare their wings some effort.