Up early, even if “early” can be as late as sunrise.
That late is rather rare.
At any rate, haul my bulk out of bed, get the dog up, get him out to water the garden, and the walk.
When I get back, there’s Dawdle Time. Depending on how much time there is I can get a lot done in Dawdle Time. I’ve said I get more done before sunrise than many people do some days.
All of these plants do require care. Sometimes they require care by others, and I can find homes for the extras, other times, I end up watching for where the water is being irrigated and putting out new plants.
South Florida has a wet and hot tropical climate. It never freezes here, the USDA freeze line for Coastal Eastern South Florida is 8 miles North of me. Clint Moore Road in Boca Raton. Ok, sure that’s a bit silly to be that specific, we know there is little difference whether something is actually “freezing” or thawed at 1/2 degree warmer, but hey, it’s a talking point. Even if the line could be well north of that on any given year.
But the other thing about this climate is that we get 50 inches of rain per year. Give or take, Depending on whether a tropical storm deposits itself overhead. But on average it’s 50 inches or about 125 cm.
Since that is 40 inches or 100 cm in the wet season, and the rest in the other six months of the dry season (December to May), it’s been described as a part time desert. It requires irrigation. Twice a week for certain hours sprinklers may be used, or every day if you have drip feed irrigation.
If you don’t, your flowers die. This is a very artificial look here that we have. Those Hibiscus hedges and Palm trees are not native. The soil is Beach Sand, and now the ground water is suffering from Salt Intrusion because too many people from other places don’t want to freeze in the winter and have settled here.
Like me, guilty.
But for now, the Global Warming that isn’t supposed to exist, hasn’t really hit my specific area too hard. I’m at High Ground – 15 feet above sea level the charts tell me. Miami Beach on the other hand has regular floods due to tides.
Outside of the ash piles called “Mount Trashmore”, the next natural hill is 200 miles North of me. Florida is flatter than Kansas.
I putter in the garden and am followed around as I decide what to prune, and what to propagate. Milkweed from cuttings have gravitated to being hidden in the hedges because when they are found, they get eaten to sticks.
Coleus is literally everywhere because they readily go to seed. Cut the tops off and the seeds are tiny, get flung into pots.
Snapping a bit of Coleus off and tossing it into the garden means the stuff grows where it’s tossed.
There is a story told to me about a groundskeeper in San Jose, Costa Rica. A wise man who said, “Señor, estamos en las tropicas. Arrojar una semilla en el suelo y crecerá.”
Sir, we are in the tropics. Throw a seed on the ground it will grow.
But puttering isn’t always interesting those who don’t have a putter. You get followed around lost in your thoughts and the noises of the feral Parrots that are having their Call To Flock in that first hour after Sunrise. The Pigeons call to you “Meh! Meh!” like grey feathered Simpsons characters.
And the Dog. Rack. Bored with what you’re doing, and having finished fertilizing the fence posts, tells me it is time to go inside. Move onto the next task and into the house. Besides, there’s breakfast to make, and you have already decided which trees to fell five times over.
Time to go in.