Living in Flagler Beach, Florida
A slice of life as a new resident.
Betty Steflik Memorial Preserve in Flagler Beach. Photo by author.
Author's note: I had intended to write a summary blog about my first year living in Florida. But there is just too much to share. (Throwing all of that in an upcoming book.) Instead, here is a slice-of-life blog. Enjoy!
This is Florida, too, I thought, reflecting on the sunshine state we had moved to a year earlier.
Raindrops hit hard on my windshield, while the moving car in front of me sent waves of water up and over, cascading like a waterfall. Each time the vehicle in front of me hit standing water, I knew it'd be my turn next.
It had been raining for days, with some sun giving respite.
"I haven't forgotten you," the sun seemed to say. But, as if to give rain its full due, the sun had hid again under the cover of the clouds.
Before this latest rainfall, I had been awed by a couple of sun showers: rain falling in a beautifully sunlit blue sky. Only a few dark clouds overhead hinted at the source of the rain, eventually moving on and giving full access to that Florida sunshine.
But now, only rain came to visit as I drove up A1A from Ormond Beach, a scenic roadway of houses, palm tree-lined sidewalks, and a commercial zone offering gas, food, services, merchandise, and beachfront condos. Then, A1A hugged the coastline in Ormond by the Sea, giving way to spectacular ocean views.
When I first moved to my new hometown, I searched for nearby gyms. But, the moment I stepped into a trial Zumba class at an Ormond Beach gym, I knew from the vibe I'd found my place (even if it was a bit further from home).
The instructor and class attendees had made me feel incredibly welcome, a feeling I immensely appreciated. Walking into that trial class, I felt new, nervous, and awkward. Moving to a new state trained me to accept these feelings month by month and to charge ahead.
Driving home from the gym now, I no longer felt like a stranger. Life supported me (even if the rain made the drive feel longer). The route to the gym had become one of my favorite parts of living in Flagler Beach. Even now, I stole glances at the roaring white, foamy ocean waves. The grey ocean under a misty grey sky radiated the words: picturesque. No wonder artists painted scenes like this one; the scene captivated the attention.
But, I re-trained my eyes on the puddled roadways, comfortably maneuvering around deep parts of the water-logged roads. Driving in the rain reminded me of another kind of defensive driving: snow.
In my former home state of Pennsylvania, I'd carefully aligned my car's tires in tamped-down snow made by earlier tire tracks, averting away from "untouched" snow. Now, I considered staying closer to the road's center, away from the flooding sides, but cars kept coming in the opposite direction.
Still, today's rain felt much less stressful than driving in snow.
Should I trade in my sedan for a higher vehicle? I wondered as I watched a jeep drive by me.
As my car propelled us forward, block by block, splish-splashing, I thought, These beach communities aren't much different from my experience of hard rain flooding the roadways in Stone Harbor. Stone Harbor, New Jersey, had been where we vacationed before moving to Florida.
In Florida, I've learned to carry a bucket hat for rain rather than a raincoat (often too warm or muggy to wear). But what I hadn't expected walking out of the gym today with said bucket hat on my head was the condition of the parking lot. Rainwater submerged the lot and my feet.
Ah, so be it, I thought as I yanked open my car door. I quickly pulled my now-soaked sneakers, socks, and feet into the car, tossing my bucket hat on the passenger seat and using my gym towel to dry off.
Now, orange and white construction barrels lined the roadway in Flagler Beach. Until I reached large cranes and construction equipment glistening under the soaking rain, ready to finish work on a sea wall. The condos across the street overlooked the seawall construction site; activities at both appeared subdued by the rain.
Next came textures of vibrant green plants flanking the roadway at Gamble Rogers State Park. After came Snack Jacks at High Tides beachfront restaurant on the right, along with an electronic construction sign reminding people to stay off the dunes, freshly built from a beach renourishment project in Flagler Beach.
When I arrived home, rainwater rapidly puddled our courtyard. I grabbed our push broom from the garage, and with the bucket hat back on and soaked feet, I managed to stay under porch cover and pushed puddles of water into the courtyard's drain vents. If I moved the broom too fast, the water rushed forward, over the vents, and then back toward me like an incoming wave.
Well, going fast doesn't work, I thought. Slow and methodical did. Surprisingly, I enjoyed clearing the pooling water, eventually succeeding in taking my time.
Spotting our folded-up loungers, I decided to move them to a dryer spot. As I moved one over, I found a gecko peeking up within the folds of the lounger. I carefully moved the lounger and hitch-hiking gecko under the porch.
I recall enjoying seeing geckos for the first time scurry on the Betty Steflik Memorial Preserve boardwalk in Flagler Beach. The boardwalk trail offers scenic nature sights over a salt marsh. Seeing a gecko then was a novelty; now, they are part of our courtyard home sanctuary.
Dragonflies, once another unusual treat to see, also appear in the courtyard, flying with switchback moves, staying awhile until they head out. Butterflies flit in and go out. But frogs still surprise us, somehow blending in, until we are practically upon them, glued to an exterior window or light fixture. At first, my husband moved them out to the yard, but it seemed rather fruitless after a while.
My daughter recently told me leaves were starting to fall in Pennsylvania. Living here, I realized how much I lacked that awareness of the change of the season.
But there is a change of season: peak hurricane season hits from mid-August to mid-October.
So this is Florida, too. We have heavy rainfall, beaches vulnerable to beach erosion, and roads to flooding, along, in my slice of life, renourishment, geckos, dragonflies, frogs, and butterflies.