Some stories live and die by their setting. A place can be more than just a backdrop—it can breathe, shift, and carry weight just as much as any character. Think of the windswept moors in Wuthering Heights, the oppressive heat of the American South in To Kill a Mockingbird, or the icy, isolating expanse of … Read more
White-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus) are some of the most recognizable wildlife in Central Florida. They’re common in forests, wetlands, and even suburban areas where wooded spaces remain intact. Yet, despite their numbers, spotting one still feels special—like a quiet reminder that the wild world is never far away. Each encounter plays out the same way: … Read more
There’s a certain magic in the marshlands, and for me, that magic has always been embodied by the roseate spoonbill (Platalea ajaja). That vibrant pink, glowing like a sunset against the greens and blues of the Florida wetlands—it’s the kind of beauty that stops you in your tracks. I’ll never forget the first time I … Read more
When you’re a kid, the world is wilder, stretched vast and untamed, full of secrets just waiting to be uncovered. Every backyard, every scrappy patch of woods, every forgotten alley between buildings—it all holds the possibility of adventure. It doesn’t take much. Just a quiet moment, crouched low in the grass, watching the world at … Read more
As a former teacher and an avid explorer of Florida’s wild spaces, I’ve seen firsthand how connecting with nature can transform a child’s curiosity, creativity, and confidence. But in a world filled with screens and structured activities, how do we inspire kids to step outside and experience the wonder of the natural world? Here are some simple, engaging ways to get your kids excited about nature—no expensive gear or far-off destinations required!
There’s something mesmerizing about the way the ocean breathes—the tide retreating to unveil a hidden world, then surging forward to reshape everything in its path. I’ve walked those shores, watching the water withdraw, leaving behind shells, forgotten relics, and scars carved into the sand. It’s a quiet magic, this rhythm of ebb and flow, and … Read more
For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a writer. It was a hunger, like the pull of the sea, something I couldn’t shake. In fourth grade, I wrote my first “book,” driven by the real-life wonder of finding a horse in my backyard. My grandfather and I approached it with sugar cubes, marveling at our good fortune, until a stranger arrived to take the horse away. I turned the experience into a story, complete with dialogue and—recklessly—one curse word. I expected admiration. Instead, my grandmother frowned, my teacher scolded, and the first spark of my storytelling confidence was snuffed out. I learned then to write in secret, to tuck my stories away like treasure buried beneath the tide.