The Two Habitats

I have two habitats, maybe three. The first one is my home on the edge of the Green Swamp, far away from everything. The water board folks occasionally drive through the property on their way to checking the river and tending to the vast acres on the watershed. But otherwise we live in our splendid green privacy where we shower outside in a grape arbor (and whoever goes out first in the morning must prune that shower curtain and urge the spiders to go elsewhere and flick off the green tree frogs who congregate there.) No swimsuits needed here.

We go to sleep with the cackles of the barred owls and wake up to the noise of the dawn chorus of birds. We sleep in our high bed with the dog and my quilts, nothing to wake us except the full moon shining once a month with such magic ferocity I must get up and walk around through the porches to admire it. In the moonlight I can see the cows lying peacefully in the meadow, and if I walk down to the fence I can smell their sweet breath.

But we must have our fix of urban life! Last week in midtown New York City, we strolled out to Times Square, after a wonderful restaurant dinner. Traffic has been banned there and there are lots of chairs and tables full of people (millions of people!) Above us the vast neon lights blinked and jazzed, reflected on the glass faces of the buildings. So many people! All kinds, ages. Tourists from Indiana, Muslims in full regalia, dreadlocks, very short skirts, turbans, kimonos, lots of babies in strollers, old folks, friendly policemen directing people. I can't get used to the noise! Sirens, taxis, the hum of hundreds of my countrymen having fun.

We took a long subway trip to a wedding and the whole thing was an adventure, a visual treat. Across the aisle on the train from us was a dad and his little girl, entwined in the need for sleep. I loved watching them as they kept hitching up their stuff as it fell apart. Many kisses. They were beautiful.

And then, as we exited the train, a family we had observed who was clearly on the way for a day at the beach with many kids and coolers, tumbled out of the car screaming and roiling and bursting. As we left the train, those usually uninvolved New Yorkers were stepping out from the doors, and there was clearly a bloodied woman calling for the police. It didn't happen in our car, but clearly there was some kind of assault.

The wedding took place in a park under the Brooklyn Bridge. No one could hear the words of the ceremony because of the racket from the trains crossing the bridge, but it was lovely - so New York.

We love the array of arts and music in the Big Apple and we eagerly embrace it. But at the end of the days we are exhausted from the bumping up against so many people. We are glad to get on the plane for home. I could hardly wait for the Moment when we drive down our lane between the fingers of swamp to home.

The third place we call ours is a small apartment we are renovating in the green and leafy part of Old Northeast St. Petersburg where we go sometimes to be with our family and friends. In terms of privacy, this place has the least. Neighbors are so near you could reach your hand out from your window and touch. But, unlike New York City, those neighbors seek to know you and watch out for you, and that is amazing.

Part of the price of living here is that the satellite sometimes refuses to download photos. So just imagine the contrast of the Green Swamp and Times Square.