Pineapples and Black Racers

Want to know something else Floridians love? Pineapples. I will never understand the fascination, but apparently it is a sign of hospitality. Taken originally from the days of Christopher Columbus when he picked up the fruit on his second voyage, the pineapple is a symbol for welcoming others. Apparently Spaniards began associating this fruit as a sign of entry into villages when one was set out for them. Then, in colonial times, the pineapple became a table centerpiece for large meals when company would come celebrate. Guests staying over would be treated to the "pineapple room", that is, the room that was decorated with pineapples, from doorknobs to bedposts.

Where we are now, pineapples are plentiful, which I find hilarious and odd at the same time. They are carved into mantles, and etched into entryways. They sit perched on grand entry gates at driveways, and adorn trellises along homes. Growing up where I did, I think I became accustomed to whatever is the antithesis of the pineapple of hospitality. A burning cross? A "Do Not Enter" sign? Californians are many things, but we are not known for our warmth or Southern Hospitality, even in So Cal. We like our space and fiercely guard our possessions. We enclose our yards with privacy fencing. We are selfish with our driveways, and we argue about property lines. While the weather is hospitable enough to have the doors open nearly year round, we hide behind privacy glass and peer out our peep holes with great distrust before granting access to the Fed Ex person delivering our packages from Apple. No, we are definitely not a warm and welcoming breed, so the pineapple thing still freaks me out a little from time to time.

Today was warm enough for nature to feel welcome. While I quite enjoyed a fancy spiderweb in our backyard this morning, I could do without the black racer who met his match on the street just in front of our driveway. Though I am not a fan, I do feel sad for an innocent snake who ventured out on the first hot day only for it to be his last. Who are we that we are superior to a slithering snake, that our 2 ton vehicles crush the very life of a lowly animal? It almost makes me sad enough to forego my car and walk everywhere....until I remember the encroaching summer heat upon us.

Today's heat even got to my girl, who had to grab an impromptu nap in the middle of her science reading. I'm guessing mollusks are not her thing. I can't say I was all that thrilled to be teaching bivalves and cephalopods, either, and a nap would have been just the ticket if I didn't have another kid buzzing around the house looking for trouble to stir up. I love my life when all the windows are open with a cool breeze blowing through the house, and all I can hear above the sound of the pool's waterfall is the peaceful rhythmic breathing of my sleeping child.