Bring Bok the Spring

I'm always amused by non-natives who go around complaining that Florida doesn't have seasons; obviously, they've never been here in the spring, or if they have, they've never stepped outside of their hotel beyond the beach or amusement park.

Florida has one of the most beautiful spring seasons in the world, if you know where to look, and Bok Tower Gardens is one place that capitalizes on everything that's amazing here in spring.

Azaleas line the pathways in February

If you arrive early enough in the morning, in addition to a visual feast of splashy borders created by red, pink, and white azaleas and camellias, you'll be treated to the lively singing of mockingbirds, wrens, warblers, finches, and jays throughout the gardens.

The tower rings out with a familiar song or a lively carol every hour.

Plenty of benches are tucked away in quiet nooks, under spreading oaks, or around open fields, where you can relax and enjoy the beauty or watch the people. This morning, there were very few people there before 10 a.m., so it was as if I had the entire garden to myself.

The swan was missing from the reflecting pool around the tower, and I can't help but wonder if last year's sighting of a big cat nearby has anything to do with that. During that visit, the keepers were frantically trying to capture and crate the bird for the night; I don't know if they were successful or not. Hopefully, it was just old age that took him away, and not a bobcat, panther, or coyote. Or perhaps he was just sleeping in . . .

Camellia loaded with honeybees.

And there seemed to be, this morning at least, no shortage of honeybees, although there certainly seemed to be a shortage of blossoms with sweet nectar . . . every bee in the garden seemed to be focused on this single white camellia . . . something special, I suppose, in bee cuisine it had to offer . . .

At 9 a.m., the tower rang out with "Try to Remember," and I thought how oddly inappropriate that was for the splendor of springtime renewal that filled the gardens. This wasn't a morning for nostalgia; this was a morning better suited for a little Beatles' "Here Comes the Sun" or e.e. cummings "In just spring . . ."