Searching for Center in Seminole County

In college my graphic design professor insisted that we develop our own concepts. My classmates protested that "in the real word, copywriters will write copy and we'll just have to do the artwork!" But "Jack", the toughest and most influential instructor I had in my 4 years at UF, was unwavering and I went on to develop such memorable headlines as "It's A-maizing" for Argo Corn Syrup. My classmates still tease me about that one.

In my professional career working at small in-house design departments, I was forced to not only create my own concepts but even write my own copy. I also wrote radio ads, TV commercials even the script for a promotional video. Yet I'm still more at home in the visual realm than in the world of words. This realization was made more apparent to me after a Nature Journaling Workshop with the brilliant Florida writer Bill Belleville sponsored by the Center for Earth Jurisprudence.

I've just recently discovered the CEJ, whose mission is to advance a legal system that recognizes that ecosystems have inherent rights to be healthy. Yes, they are lawyers for the earth!

I attended a lecture by Jacksonville artist Jim Draper and fell in love with the organization and their methods of blending environmental education and spirituality. I eagerly signed up for the journaling exercise held at the Lake Harney Wilderness Area in Seminole County.

Just the drive to Lake Harney where the workshop was held was eventful. Soon after crossing over the St. Johns River, I made my way down Osceola Road and passed a huge sow sauntering down the side of the road, not a sight often seen in my urban existence! A short time later I passed a Gopher Tortoise striding down the yellow line between lines of traffic. Had I not been following another car, I would have stopped and moved him, but I am happy to report when I passed that way on my return trip, I saw no evidence that he ended up as roadkill.

The Lake Harney Wilderness Area is 300 acre parcel that Seminole County bought through a land acquisition plan similar to the state's Florida Forever program. According to the Seminole County website, the site is "home to the historic railroad crossing of the Florida east Coast Railway, Native American Shell middens, several bald eagles nests, oak hammocks and mixed hardwood swamps." We strolled down the Flagler trail to a scenic overlook built on top of a shell mound. Rusting evidence of the railroad bridge crossing was apparent next to this archaeological site. This area had been occupied by generations of Timucua, Miakka and perhaps Seminole Indians before the white man came along. Prior to Henry Flagler's railroad bridge, this location was a ferry crossing. It also served home to the logging town of Osceola. When the loggers had harvested all the trees on the site, they simply picked up the town and moved it down near the Everglades, leaving only the brick bank vault behind. As I wandered the site, it was thrilling to know I shared the same space as some Florida's earliest human inhabitants. Belleville did a masterful job of explaining the cultural history and the pointing out obscure natural details. It was not long before the location came alive in my mind as much more than the obvious physical appearances; it is a culmination of centuries of human occupation. I saw the natural setting with new eyes as I explored the nearby paths.

The lonely bank vault of the former town of Osceola

The St. Johns River

After soaking up the natural beauty as I wandered around the woods, I forced myself to sit and attempted to center myself. My first try at closing my eyes was interrupted by a buzzing mosquito. After two recent cases of mosquito borne Dengue Fever reported in the area, I was committed to staying bite-free and quickly soaked myself in bug repellent. I heard the sounds of insects, birds and pesky squirrels rustling palm fronds. I also heard speed boats and airplanes pass by. I couldn't sit still for long.

The observation platform atop the shell midden

I know the feeling of oneness with nature that Bill Belleville described so eloquently. I often experience that kind of serenity sitting on my dock of the little lake behind my house. It's like an immense wave of gratitude, and the certain realization that I am part of something larger than myself. I fit into nature's perfection. The anxiety of maintaining a manicured yard diminishes and I realize that by allowing native "weeds" to grow unencumbered, I've actually created habitat for a plethora of critters both seen and unseen. But on this day, at this beautiful setting, I could not shut down my urge to explore and to see new things. My virgin journal captured no brilliant words. I have to take time to process my experience in order to write about it. But my eyes beheld enough beauty for me to want to return to this spot again, and it left a mark on my heart. I felt fed and fulfilled. I'm fairly certain that alone was a more than an adequate outcome for this Sunday afternoon.

Rusty relics of another time show man's continual use of the site

Shell midden detail

A gorgeous fall day on the St. Johns River

Interpretive signage details the incredible human history found here

Native Americans must have eaten a great deal of these fresh water snails

Bill Belleville suggested getting a good guidebook of Florida wildflowers

Note the eagle's nest in the pine tree

Great use of modern technology

Bill Belleville at a historical marker

Catching up with the Florida Wildlife Corridor Expedition

It's not every day that you get to meet up with members of an expedition in the middle of their journey, but that's what I did last Thursday. The Florida Wildlife Corridor Expedition is an 100-day, 1,000 mile trek from Flamingo at the base of the Everglades to the Okefenokee Swamp in Southern Georgia. Because of the way Florida was developed, from the coasts inward, there is still an opportunity to piece together enough wilderness areas in the interior of the state to protect the habitats of threatened populations of animals like Florida panthers and black bears. In the far-too-civilized Florida I live in most of the time, it's hard to even imagine that we share the state with such amazing creatures, and the Florida Wildlife Corridor would ensure that they can exist in the future.

I met up with the team at Blue Springs State Park in Volusia County. Speakers included Drew Bartlett, Director of the Florida Department of Environmental Protection’s Division of Environmental Assessment and Restoration, Deborah Shelley, manager of DEP’s Wekiva River Aquatic Preserve, author Bill Belleville, and artist/author Margaret Tolbert. Bartlett talked about the DEP's efforts to improve water quality throughout the state and Shelley talked about Wekiva River Preserve which stretches from Wekiva Springs northward to the St. Johns River at State Road 44 near DeLand. Bill Belleville, author of "Losing It All To Sprawl: How Progress Ate My Cracker Landscape" and the award-winning "Salvaging the Real Florida: Lost and Found in the State of Dreams" spoke about the need for people to make a spiritual connection to Florida's wild places. I've heard Bill speak four times and I am always inspired by his insights and knowledge of the the overlooked and under-appreciated aspects Florida. Finally Margaret Tolbert, author of the award-winning "Aquiferious", spoke about her artwork based around Florida's springs and how her whole life changed by merely "sticking her head in the water."

Bill Belleville

Margaret Tolbert

Finally the members of the expedition stepped up, including photographer Carlton Ward Jr, bear biologist Joe Guthrie, conservationist Mallory Lykes Dimmitt and filmmaker Elam Stoltzfus. The last 72 days of hiking, kayaking and camping had left the group a bit fatigued. After introductory statements, they took questions from the group about the Corridor and the Expedition and then did individual interviews for the media. They were pleased with a front page article in the Daytona News Journal, since creating more awareness of the program will help not only improve the likelihood of the Corridor becoming reality, but also expose thousands of human residents to a side of Florida they rarely stop to notice.

Carlton Ward, Jr.

Mallory Lykes Dimmitt, Elam Stoltzfus and Joe Guthrie

I ate lunch with a lady who came to the event because of concerns over the future of a small community called Osteen in Volusia County. This unincorporated rural area was feeling the pressures from nearby city of Deltona, who looked to annex part of Osteen potentially having a pronounced effect on their quality of life. In this one example, it was clear to see the challenges of the Corridor against the encroachment of civilization.

The highlight of the day for me was the opportunity to snorkel with Carlton Ward Jr. and Margaret Tolbert, two enormously talented individuals whose work I greatly admire. As we swam up the run to the headwaters of the spring, I was soon left behind to struggle against the strong current by myself. By the time I reached the boil where the icy cold water emerges from the aquifer, the otherwise sunny day had turned cloudy. We stood on a ledge and waited for the clouds to part and were joined by Joe Davenport, a young filmmaker also covering the expedition. It was his first time swimming in a spring and he was giddy with what he was seeing underwater (and Margaret was thrilled to have made a new convert.) After waiting for a break in the clouds, I finally swam back down stream, finding going with the flow easier, but perhaps not as rewarding as going against it.


On the way back I saw a great physical example of the importance of the Corridor. Just outside the gate of the park I saw a Gopher Tortoise slowly making its way off the roadside. As a kid, I often saw these slow moving reptiles right in our backyard. But as the state became more populated, these gentle critters were often buried alive by developers right in their burrows. As the tortoise crawled off the asphalt, I hoped for his sake alone that the expedition's larger mission would meet with success.

Compared to the water clarity of the springs of North Florida featured in much of Margaret's work, the springs of Central Florida are much greener due to increased nutrients as a result of encroaching development. One of the Expedition's objectives is raising awareness of the importance of protecting the waters that sustain us.

Losing It All to Sprawl

My posts of pictures from the Citrus Tower on Facebook have generated impassioned responses from those who remember pre-sprawl Florida. First I received a link to a film dealing with the subject of changing Florida called Swamp Cabbage. Then I received notification that Florida's prominent environmental writer Bill Belleville is speaking at the History Center on Saturday about his book "Losing It All to Sprawl: How Progress Ate My Cracker Landscape." I'm going to attempt to get the book read by Saturday so I can participate in the discussion. If you are interested, please join me!