Love is in the air.
Snowbirds will say that in SoFla, the first tulip bulb doesn't rear its pretty head out of permafrost, but out of a bucket filled with water in air-conditioned Publix. But our NY "OH MY GAWD" friends aren't privy to the rioutous flowering of bougainvillea -- the blooming cycle of which seems to imitate the comings and goings of 'season' itinerary.
Manola -- plow in hand -- begs to differ.
There's hot and then there's hot. Walk on the pitch-black asphalt and suffocate hot, wishing you were dressed as scantily as Paris Hilton hot. Hot as in wishing your boobs were less perky, smaller, flatter and not sweating under the creases of your generous flesh HOT. Hot, yes, showering twice a day so to wake up and remember your name HOT ... ah, the season of HOT and HUMID, with a few good things besides ... (except HURRICANES)
Sneezing? Could be mango flower pollen in the air mid-summer, beckoning the season of the world's most juiciest and delicious fruit. A little light cream, butter, cayenne and you have a mouth-watering accompaniment to mutton snapper caught under the August full moon.
(OK, if you are a Florida old-timer August gives you the heebie-jeebies after Andrew '92, and if that's the case and you are married or have a partner within lovin' distance, please go have sex IMMEDIATELY to get your mind off the WORST HURRICANE EVER ... see? sex. hurricanes. wine ... weirdest and yet totally understandable series of tags.)
Sneezing still? Think pollen a la Florida avocado. The greenest fruit that does olive oil, lemon, fresh cilantro and sea salt a favor. Please. There's more than oranges growing in Florida and you can practically trip over avocados in season.
Look around. Trees flourishing in spite of their proximity to ugly urban. Weeds growing out of a crack in the concrete.
And orchids. Yes, orchids. Oh YES Orchids!
Exquisite foreplay a thing unseen, silent and then, like any physiological event worthy of being called an orgasm, comes suddenly, with a big burst of energy, color and purpose.
The orchid on the top left corner -- Miss TIGER -- hasn't bloomed since 1997, when I could have, in spite of all odds, 'dumped' her for her insidious resistance to blooming.
I, a child of the tropics and a believer in these mysterious seasonal omens -- anyone from the tropics will surely agree -- thought that once this orchid bloomed, I'd find love.
1997, folks. For some reason, Miss TIGER hasn't bloomed since I broke up with Sir Fish a Lot, a very decent man, currently a good friend. Instead of an engagement ring, he offered me this blooming orchid.
The blooming of ORCHID AFTER ALMOST A DECADE is an EVENT ...
A good omen, so very tropics ... yes, once in Antigua I was browsing a street shop and asked the vendor for fresh tamarind. 'You pregnant?' she asked not the least bit surprised. 'Pregnant woman crave tamarind. Tamarind make baby beautiful.'
But I wasn't pregnant. And the tamarind was good. I'll have tamarind any day. Pregnant or not, Miss Tiger is FINALLY BLOOMING and DAMN IT should mean something after so many years not putting forth flower!!!
(If you haven't tried a mouth-puckering slice of tamarind, DO SO IMMEDIATELY.)
LOVE, are you trying to nudge me out of singlehood? Are you tempting me with these wild, unruly and totally unpredictable blossoms?
LOVE, the door is closed, but if you knock softly, I might just take a peek ... XOX