An Open Letter to Save our Bison

Dear Mr. Forgione,

       It is my sincere hope to communicate to you the significant impact Paynes Prairie has on my life and how its magnificence and mysteries continue to inspire and fulfill my families connection to the the power and abundance of nature.

     Growing up my siblings and I spent copious hours biking, hiking and running across the dykes of Paynes Prairie and exploring through the tall grasses and along its waterways.  As teenagers, we would even sneak onto Bolen Bluff Trail to walk barefoot on full moon nights.  It was part dare, part ecstasy!!!  Our family parked along 441 to witness eclipses and meteor showers, and for Thanksgiving the cranes would call us out for a long stroll.
   
      I left Gainesville for college, and a little while after, but returned so grateful to run along the familiar paths.  It was magical and healing at that point in my life to run through herds of ponies, flocks of birds, and by lazy gators.   I became completely empowered and consumed by the water and light and at that point a rare glimpse of the bison became an obsession.  The hunt was on!

     I eventually found them one winter on La Chua trail, and instead of a distant glimpse I strolled right into a basking heard.  The scene was sunny and lazy and I just stood in total wonder at their massive bodies - dangerous, enchanting, and going about their daily business.

    I've encountered the heard and an occasional lone Bull many times since then, and my daughter can not imagine the prairie with out the bison.  Before them, we stand still, connected to the landscape of our present and memory; as modern Americans desperate for wilderness, and as our ancestors who were immersed in it.

     I implore you to please, please, reconsider your decision to remove them.  Their value to our community is intangible, but also sacred.   The prairie is abundant with lovely ponies, and gators, but the bison make it a truly wild place.  Something we so desperately need.

Thank you for your consideration,
melissa montilla




I am mailing this letter today.  If you are a fan of the bison on our prairie please write too before they are gone.


Donald V. Forgione, Director
Florida Division of Recreation and Parks
3900 Commonwealth Blvd.
Tallahassee, Florida  32399

This Moment

"This Moment" inspired by Soulemama.

This Moment.

"This moment" inspired by Soulemama.

Grow & Share

I want to be a better Farmer.  I read "Farm City" by Novella Carpenter this fall and found out that I could call myself an Urban Farmer.  I hesitate, because really, I think I'm just a gardener gone wild.  "Farmer" has a certain altruistic flair in the whole feeding other people thing, but if you snuck into my garden to pick veggies  I would totally go Mr. McGreggor on your ass.  We all have stuff to work on,  

so this year I resolve to grow and share.  

Hopefully, more than just vegetables.

This moment.

"this moment" inspired by Soulemama.

Today it is Ten.

My Abuela Irma once told me that a Marriage doesn't start until 30 years after the wedding. 

Ten down, twenty to go.

Some things I learned this year...

This was an intense year of learning, and although I left this space quiet for the second half of it I still kept scribbling notes to myself.  Scribbling some how helps me explore my thoughts, beliefs, and whatever else comes along.  Here are the "cliff" notes...

Things I learned this year:

It is possible to intellectualize and support and idea with out actually comprehending or believing it.  I know, it took me way to long to realize this, but there it is in its glory.

A good dog, despite his tongue.

 Getting licked to death is actually a way to die.  Just ask our chickens.

  

 People CAN and do change - its inevitable and goes both ways.

Nobody gets out of this alive.  We had plenty of opportunity to contemplate death this year, and the 

only thing I can say for certain is that it is as integral to our lives as birth.

The best accomplishments are selfless and ephemeral; the ones inspired by and for others so the products slip from your fingers into theirs.

A wedding dress made for a sweet friend!

 Our bodies are organic, living, and growing.  

Our bodies can heal and reclaim function at any and every age!

and with every permutation!

Death is beautiful, gentle, and happens with a simple exhale (sometimes it is even a kindness).

To be honest I felt this lesson years ago, but its been a reoccurring theme/lesson.

I hope your year has passed you by with amazing encounters, experiences, and of course lessons.  I look forward to taking mine into a new year.

The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen!

Our animals have always gifted me with love, grace, humor, and more often than not a mutual admiration.  The not being an occasional rooster, but you know roosters are just being roosters after all.  Our animals keep me on task and stabilize my day adding the benefit of continuity and connection to so much in this world from which I am separated.  Living in the wilderness is dreamy, but out of the question so I live a little vicariously through a terriers lively instincts, and the call of a not so wild turkey.  Which brings me to the other things that animals pepper my days with; mischief and high dramatics of the life and death variety.  As in, "I am going to kill that dog!" or the coop being raided by raccoons.  

Bees, being animals, are of course no different and without the least bit of frost, winter has provided a rich dose of drama.  In winter, bees form a cluster for warmth, and ideally (if you don't rob them blind) survive off their stored honey.  However, our fall honey flow has been and continues to be incredibly abundant.  With so many warm and fruitful days my lovely ladies decided to supersede their queen, and the new queen never returned from her mating flight.  No Queen, no brood, and winter are a terrible combination.  

After a few anxiety filled days of hustling for a new queen, I came to terms with the fact that despite living in FLORIDA I would have to either pilfer fresh brood from a friend for the girls to make a new queen or order one from Hawaii.  The conversations were dismal at best.  One local beekeeper even lamented on the hardships of winter on a sunny eighty degree day with a lovely flow of maple going strong (please insert the Twilight Zone theme music here - no, not the one with vampires).   

As certain as I am of the loveliness of Hawaiian bees, their plumeria scented buzz could not survive the sticky, parasitic wilds of Florida.  Not to mention the fact that if my back yard honey originated in Hawaii, I may as well just get it from the grocery store.

  

Those lumps are future Queens!

As luck would have it a brilliant Beekeeper and friend saved the day!  Fresh brood went in, and as hoped, three days later I had lovely queen cells!!!  Now, with the help of some global warming I need a warm patch in two weeks for a successful mating flight and one darn good hive of feral bees will survive this treacherous Florida winter!!!

A new garden.

(a familiar friend enjoying a lack of frost damage this morning in the garden)

This Christmas I received a garden and hope for a new queen.  

I also got some great new running shoes but as much as I will enjoy them, they are not quite a garden.  The garden is actually a few dozen new plants and planters that all tuck into my existing garden which seems like just an addition.  However, in spring, I know those dormant twigs will expand reshaping the space, introducing new movement, rhythms, and color.  A completely different garden.  I also had a new garden etched into my skin, but that is another story entirely.  

As for the Queen?  Well, I'll tell you tomorrow!

"Fly" fashion

Our house has some fishin folks in it, and there is nothing more exotic and exciting to us Florida girls than cold mountain water (um, with trout of course).  Last week my girl marched up to the Platt river in her hot pink tutu and matching pole to cast and splash.  This Mama couldn't have been more proud as she did her thing while fully geared guys in waders had a good laugh; at themselves I hope.  Seriously boys the water wasn't that cold, and everything is better in a tutu.