Planets over Arctic Florida

Too cold to stick your neck out

The frigid air followed me on my southeastern journey for the holidays. 

Leaving for my flight with the mercury below zero, I landed in sunny Pensacola with the temperature at a balmy 34 and ready to drop. 

Our family was reunited and got ready for a long Christmas weekend in the gulf with late seafood lunch overlooking the water. By the time we checked into our holiday rental on Perdido Key, the sun started to set and the temperatures in the teens beckoned. 

I walked on the beach. A few herons lingered in the surf. Only a few people bothered. A few teenagers shed their shoes. I applauded their bravery through my gloves. As the dark encroached, I spotted Jupiter above and a thin sliver of moon in the remains of the light. 

 Below-freezing temperatures feel far worse on the Gulf Coast. Not only does the scenery seem unworthy of such cold, but the humidity pushes the cold onto anyone who steps outside. Seriously, subzero temperatures in dry mountain air come with a grace period. In Colorado, I had time to load my bags and start the car before my hands went numb. In Florida, winter shoved me in the face. 

By the next morning, the temperatures had not recovered but the dolphins and pelicans had returned to the shallow waters. There were few people on the walk to the break wall where boats entered the protected bays within. The birds were plentiful - seagulls, herons, pipers, pelicans and what appeared like an osprey. I still wore jeans, a hoodie and gloves, even as the air warmed a little. The forties were not a drastic change from the first day. 

For my afternoon walk, my sister joined me.  I no longer needed my gloves. Clouds moved on the horizon like ranges of snow-covered mountains. Even if that were impossible on such flat terrain, the clouds provided a degree of comfort. 

Sunset provided another show. As the fingernail moon arrived, so did an expected visitor -Venus. The second planet shone brightly as the light slipped away. It would be the first planet to disappear that evening, but Jupiter, Saturn and Mars will all make strong showings. Saturn comes off dimmer due to distance, but its lack of twinkle gave it away every night. 

 By Christmas Day, the birds bobbed in the water, grabbing fish easily. The smooth fins of dolphins rose around them. My father asked if one could spot the dolphins from the beach. I told him I had not. When I reached the beach, I called him and told him to look down. I could see them easily splashing off the shore less than one hundred yards out from the sandbars. Pelicans dove into the waters too, but there was no mistaking the splashes of dolphins. 

Dolphins

Pelicans up close

Osprey with prey

The sea was not stormy enough for whitecaps, and the dolphins broke up the placid currents. I walked up the sandbar, and a women walked ahead of me. Suddenly she broke into a run. I thought she intended to spook the seagulls loitering at the end of the low tide sandbar. She walked my way and pointed to her pants. She had sunk into knee-deep sand in her attempt to spook the birds. “this is what I get,” she said before walking on. 

I decided not to test the sand that almost swallowed her.  I took off my shoes and socks, then walked through the clear water separating the sandbar from the main beach. It wasn’t deep or long, but my feet numbed quickly and I hurried inside for a morning shower. 

Jenny and I got my mom onto the beach for an afternoon walk. My dad waved us off, saying it was still too cold. We took Mom down to the break wall. A pelican crashes into the water not 10 feet from us. We posed for a few pictures. 

Then we heard a familiar voice. After waving at us from the balcony, Dad changed his mind and joined our walk. We were glad to have all of us on the beach for Christmas. We only had one walk together, but that counted more than any I took alone. 

I took another short jaunt at dusk. Venus seemed to have a companion this evening, with Mercury breaking through despite its close proximity to the Sun. That gave use every planet visible to the naked eye (yeah, yeah, I know can see Uranus if I really try). During the night, someone had scrawled “Merry Christmas” and drew a present in the sand right below our condo.

We took our parents to Alabama’s Gulf State Park, which includes a series of freshwater lakes on Perdido Key with boardwalks above marshland. With the temperatures topping out in the low 50s, the reptiles stayed away, especially the park’s resident alligators. Thin ice covered the marshes. Birds of many feathers flitted through the dry plants and dormant trees. Other waterfowl sparred on the lakes. 

As the tide rolled up that afternoon and the sandbars slipped under the waves, Jenny and I wandered the beach with hard ciders. The day nudged into the fifties, and more people descended upon the beach. Boats cruised closer and the dolphins stayed away. Pelicans, pipers and gulls stuck around, but keep a little more distance. The parade of mountainous clouds continued to the south. 

The skies didn’t wait too long to come down again, with Venus making another visit in the blazing twilight. 

Tomorrow there would be goodbyes, delays, planes without crews and a late arrival. But that last night, we had the visible planets above the Gulf Coast.

Venus (right) with the fingernail moon