The weather was a bracing breath of wind over the trees and shores and waters. The sky was cerulean with white stratospheric wisps. And the sun was retreating but nonetheless resplendent. It was a good time, as I thoroughly enjoyed the excursion.
I have never been to this corner of Sarasota. So, it should come to no surprise that, at the end of our little class expedition, South Lido Beach was impressed upon me as a quaint venue to chill, swim, picnic, dwell and explore. Makes me wonder if Stephen King ever strolled down there for deep reflection.
I suppose we were by far the most populous swarm of visitors that evening, baffling even a local fisherman. There was not much of anyone. Why would there be? It was cold. But there was a half-naked man in a shorts, unfazed by the subarctic gale. Macho.
Although it did not comprise of exotic plants or bizarre sea creatures, I thought the endemic flora and fauna was interesting. The water along the beach was a little too murky to admire whatever aquatic life that went back and forth with the tide, but as we made our course down to the Sarasota Bay, the water cleared up to reveal a slew of littoral seaweeds and the occasional sea urchins. I spotted trash near the waves. It was unsightly, but not a severe violation. Perhaps it was the irresponsible negligence of some lazy, lowly educated buffoon, or perhaps it was just the wind.
If I were to nominate the most memorable segment of our trip, it would the one with the child and a bucket full of infant sharks. I was a little appalled that an evening’s session of fishing by the easily accessible edge of the water could yield so many baby sharks, hammerheads too no less. What does that say about the fuller developed ones? Yet, as my lecturer mentioned, people still occasionally ride the currents of the Sarasota Bay waters spilling into the Gulf of Mexico in the name of fun.
The raccoon was an interesting sight too. Towards the end of our class jaunt, a raccoon was caught in the act of purloining from a few trash bins for food. Well, it isn’t so much of a purloin but a scavenge, salvaging whatever that can be salvaged to adapt in man’s ever expanding domain. Cute to lens of the cameras, but the sight does bear a sad underlying implication of its natural world, slowly cropped away by grey concrete and stone. At least, the mangrove kingdom will be left untouched.