Embracing Our Differences Exhibit at Bayfront Park

Bayfront Park is now home to the 23rd Annual Embracing Our Differences Outdoor Exhibition Celebrating Kindness, Respect & Inclusion. Has there ever been a time when we've needed this exhibit more? While it was chilly the day we visited, it was heartwarming to see families and friends taking in the art and considering the quotes that accompany the images. I know, a bit syrupy, but I'm taking full advantage of feel good experiences when I find them. 

If you haven't visited the exhibit in the past, here's how it works. People from around the world submit a work of art or a quote for consideration by the Embracing Our Differences team. It's not an easy task to make the selections. This year the committee had to winnow 14,904 submissions down to the 50 works of art and 50 quotes featured in the exhibit. The number is a bit mindboggling, as is the fact that those submissions came from 48 states, 125 countries and 574 schools. I particularly like the thought of all those school kids focusing on how to depict these values. 

Case in point. "All" (pictured above) was submitted by K-5 students from Gene Witt Elementary School in Sarasota. The artist statement says, in part, "When we created this piece, we focused on how each of us is unique and wonderful...Our differences are what makes life so much more interesting for 'All' of us." The accompanying quote was submitted by Melinda Nguyen from Virginia and reads, "They can take your possessions, one by one, but your knowledge and education can't be undone."

I was curious to find out what "I Ain't Chicken of Differences" was about when I saw the image from a distance. The eagle and the duck are not to be outdone by the chicken's declaration and proclaim/ask, respectively, "Differences Make No Difference" and "What's the Difference?" Good points all around. This work was submitted by Jeff Whipple of Jacksonville, Florida. The related quote reads, "Embracing differences means choosing curiosity over judgment and connection over fear." These wise words were submitted by Alexander Haxjiaj, a 10th grader at Pine View School in Osprey. I like it. 

I toured the exhibit with my decades-long friend Suzanne who tandem bikes with her husband. (That says a lot about their marriage.) Given that, it's no surprise that "Pedaling as One" jumped out at us with the people of differing ages and colors moving together to reach their destination. What a concept. 

The art was submitted by Yunnie Ha, a 10th grader in Seoul, Korea. Bad on me, but I hadn't noticed until I read her artist statement that the bicycle wheels are different colors of the rainbow. They represent diversity, movement and unity. She goes on to describe her work as "a visual reminder that harmony is not about being the same -- it is about pedaling together with a shared purpose." The related quote is from Knushi Kumari, a 9th grader in Arrah, India. It reads, "Let compassion be the compass that guides us through the landscapes of our differences." 

I'll leave you with a work I'm a little surprised made it into the show. It's probably my favorite. "Same ___, Different Colors" was submitted by Zdravko Barisic from Serbia. His artist statement notes that our feelings about our differences -- be it skin color, lifestyle or social position -- are shaped by social constructs. He goes on to make the highly radical statement that "You may not like someone's way of life, but you should respect it." 

The quote accompanying this work reads, "Respect doesn't require agreement. It only asks that we recognize each other's humanity." This submission came from Devdaan Lobo, an 11th grader at Pine View School. You might have noticed that this is the second Pine View student whose quote I've included. There are more. Kudos to those teachers and students for their participation in the project. 

As always, I left the Embracing Our Differences exhibit feeling a bit better about our world. I suspect I'll be visiting several times before it closes on April 19th. Free tours are offered on Saturdays at 10 a.m. And if you happen to be in St. Petersburg, the exhibit will also be on display there from March 7th-April 12th. To see some of the past year's works that have caught my eye, click here. And for more information on Embracing Our Differences, click here. 

"Tamara de Lempicka" at the Baker Museum of Art

"The Girls" (1930)

I vividly remember the first time I saw a Tamara de Lempicka painting. It wasn't even an original. The Visual Arts Center in Punta Gorda hosted an annual Fine Arts Festival in which the work of an artist or a period was celebrated. Art Deco was the theme one year, and a member artist recreated a work by de Lempicka. The painting was so striking that I can visualize where it was situated in the exhibit. That's an artist with a distinctive style (and kudos to our local artist for creating such a strong replica). Given this brush with de Lempicka's work, it's no surprise I enjoyed seeing an entire exhibit featuring her art. 

The introduction to the exhibit explains de Lempicka's art this way. "With paintings exuding stylized modernity and sapphic sensuality, de Lempicka helped define the Art Deco aesthetic...Her powerful portraits of male and female lovers and patrons challenged gender norms and encapsulated the glamour, transgression and cosmopolitan effervescence [of Paris] ... between the wars." Whoa. Her style is also sometimes referred to as "soft Cubism," a term I haven't previously heard. Think the fragmentation of Picasso but in a much, well, softer way. 

"The Girls" is a terrific example of a de Lempicka painting. The women's eyes make me think of a cat basking in the sun. An elaborate scarf flows from the neck of the woman on the left in a way that covers the chest of her companion, who appears to be otherwise undressed. This detail, along with the way the women are situated, indicates to me a sense of possession by the woman who wears the scarf. I have no idea if that's accurate, but I do know there's a story waiting to be told.

"Young Girl in Pink (Kizette in Pink II)" (1928-29)

Then there's this painting by de Lempicka of a coquettish young girl who calls Lolita to mind. Am I the only one disturbed to learn this is a portrait of the artist's daughter? Time for some background.

De Lempicka was just 18 years old when she gave birth to her daughter Kizette. (Tamara was married, but Kizette's birth came less than the requisite nine months after the vows. Just establishing the context.) Being so young, de Lempicka was not ready to be a mother. And so her daughter attended boarding school and was otherwise raised primarily by family members. In this way, de Lempicka limited the the obligations of motherhood. 

When they were actually together, Tamara's feelings about their relationship was quite clear. She often introduced Kizette as her younger sister rather than her daughter. Wow. How much therapy did that kid require? Still, Kizette was one of de Lempicka's most frequent sitters for her paintings. As in this work, the girl is often shown wearing only one shoe. This choice was apparently intended to create a sense of youth and vulnerability. Perhaps Kizette needed a bit more mothering.

"Her Sadness" depicts Ira Perrot (1923)

Now for some of de Lempicka's backstory. She grew up in Russia where she met Teduesz Lempicki, her first husband. (She adopted the more feminine "Lempicka" as her last name and added the "de" for good measure, perhaps in hopes of being associated with nobility.)  After fleeing to Paris following the October Revolution, de Lempicka came into her own. She enjoyed the social circle in which she found herself and the laissez-faire attitudes of Paris at that time. Her husband, not so much. He didn't approve of her affairs (with men and women) or her use of cocaine. He didn't join her on her nights out at the clubs. And he didn't appreciate listening to Richard Wagner at full volume while she painted. Her reputation as an artist was on the rise but her marriage was in trouble. What to do? 

De Lempicka was nothing if not enterprising. And so she found a new husband who was open to her lifestyle. He also just happened to be a baron. (She had known adding that "de" would come in handy one day.) The poet Ira Perrot became the artist's most significant lover. The pair frequented the salons of the day with the likes of Gertrude Stein and Anais Nin. Perrot also became de Lempicka's muse, and the artist created numerous paintings and drawings of her lover. "Her Sadness" is one example. 

The pair parted when the Baron and Baroness moved to California shortly before the outbreak of World War II. Shockingly (not), Tamara became part of the Hollywood scene. She set her art aside, focusing instead on being the hostess with the mostest. Her work fell out of favor as figurative work -- even portraiture as striking as de Lempicka's -- gave way to the Abstract Expressionist movement. The world was a chaotic place, and the work of artists like Jackson Pollock and Willem de Kooning captured that chaos. 

De Lempicka at work 

Fast forward to the 1970s when de Lempicka was rediscovered. It probably won't surprise you to learn that Madonna is one of de Lempicka's biggest collectors. This NY Times article about the artist begins, "Before Madonna strapped on her funnel-breasted bustier and called it feminism, there was the painter Tamara de Lempicka." I love it, and I bet de Lempicka would have too. Click here to see Madonna's video for "Vogue" with de Lempicka paintings in the background. And for a great short video about the artist, click here. 

And just to circle back, the painting I saw at the Visual Arts Center years ago de Lempicka's "Autoportrait (Tamara in a Green Bugati)." To see that work, along with another portrait of Kizette and a photo of de Lempicka with Salvador Dali (no shock there), click here. 

Thanks to the Baker Museum for giving me the opportunity to dig into the work of this fascinating artist. My life seems so tame by comparison (and that's just the way I like it.) "Tamara de Lempicka" continues only through February 8th, so time is short to see this show. Don't miss it if you're in the area. For more information, click here.

Paula McLain talks "Skylark" at Copperfish Books

It was a delight to hear Paula McLain speak at Copperfish Books about her new novel "Skylark." Literally, that was the first thing I wrote in my notes about the event -- "delightful." McLain signed books before and after her talk, taking the time to engage with every reader. She was exuberant, despite being in the midst of seven events across the state over seven days. I had no sense that she was telling stories she's surely already shared dozens of times over the last few weeks. That is passion. 

McLain started off with a confession/humble brag. When she wrote her bestselling book "The Paris Wife," she had never been to Paris. How could she possibly have gone? She had three young kids, three part-time jobs and a full-time husband with a job of his own. She made up for this by visiting the City of Lights six times in connection with "Skylark." Some of those visits took place when she was looking for ideas for a new book. "It was like being on the cusp of a love affair," she said. "At any moment, I felt like I might meet the one." She eventually did. 

McLain had never wanted to write a WWII story. Other slices of history called to her. Until, that was, she learned about two doctors working at a psychiatric hospital during the War. While walking around the building one day, they discovered a locked gate that led to some underground tunnels. They picked the lock, began exploring and, eventually, mapped the area. Long story short but thanks to their maps, the Resistance was able to operate beneath the city, establishing not only secret ways to move around Paris but meeting spots and even a headquarters. Fun fact: One of the doctors -- Jean Talairach -- later became one of the first neuroscientists to map the brain. 

McLain credited an episode about Robert McFarlane's "Underland" on the "On Being" podcast with introducing her to this story. She also learned about cataphiles, urban explorers who illegally traverse portions of the catacombs that are not open to the public, sometimes with others in tow. "Hmm," she thought. "That sounds like something I should do." And so she did. This is a woman after my own heart.  

She met her guide -- code name "La Segal" -- on a street corner. She had been instructed to bring her passport "in case they got arrested." He looked like an aging pirate. (Sadly, I couldn't find a picture of them together.) They entered the tunnels through a manhole and climbed down four ladders, ending up 65 feet beneath the city. The floors were clay and the tunnels were dark and narrrow -- between five and eight feet wide. It was equal parts daunting and thrilling. 

As they explored, McLain saw writing on the tunnel walls -- messages and drawings from the past. She became captivated by thoughts of the Parisian people who used these tunnels in their fight against the Nazis. The idea for her next book had arrived, as had the cover art. The red Liberty Bird on the cover of "Skylark" comes from images of birds in the tunnels whose beaks pointed the way to safety. I love it. To dig into this subject a bit more, click here for a documentary on the tunnels. 

McLain and readers at Copperfish Books - "Now we're all friends," she declared.

And now a bit about the book. "Skylark" has a split timeline, shifting between the stories of Alouette and Kristof. Alouette lives in 17th century Paris and is the daughter of a master dye maker who is perfecting red dye. It was a time when sumptuary restrictions prohibited all but the highest class of Parisian from wearing the color red. Life for those in the lower classes was a colorless existence. Alouette pushes against these limitations. Beauty and survival are synonymous to the young woman.

Fast forward to WWII Paris where Kristof is a doctor in a psychiatric hospital navigating life under the Nazi regime. His home is in the same building Alouette and her family lived in centuries earlier. His neighbors are a Jewish family who have fled Poland in hopes of finding safety. When the Nazis descend upon Paris, they look to Kristof to help them survive. 

It's an interesting set up, and I'm eager to learn how the tunnels come into play in both stories. To see Paula talk about her book on Good Morning, America, click here. I consider myself fortunate to have heard from her in person. Thanks to Copperfish Books for providing the opportunity. 

For more on McLain and "Skylark," click here. Support your local indie bookstore! 

Uncovering Ca' d'Zan -- Private Spaces Tour

Ca' d'Zan

John Ringling is one of the most significant figures in Sarasota's history. After all, Ringling's decision to move the winter headquarters of his circus to Sarasota is one reason our city became such a popular destination.

Ringling of course needed a home that equated with his position in society. Friends and colleagues from northern climes would be visiting, and he wanted to entertain them in style. And so he built Ca' d'Zan or "the House of John." (It was also the House of Mabel, but she was just the wife. Fun fact: Ringling listed his occupation on their marriage certificate as "capitalist." But I digress.) 

The 36,000 square foot Mediterranean Revival-style home has 56 rooms, including a ballroom and a solarium. There's an elevator for people who couldn't climb the stairs and an intercom system through which the Ringlings and their guests could alert staff to their needs. (Cue the music for "Downton Abbey.") The estate sits on Sarasota Bay, all the better for guests who wanted to arrive by water. 

This wasn't my first visit to Ca' d'Zan. Many years ago, I went on a tour of the mansion's public spaces. Surprise, surprise, but my favorite part of the tour was seeing the art. Dancing couples from around the world are featured on the ceiling of the ballroom, compliments of artist Willy Pogany. For a great video of the works, click here. The Private Spaces tour allows visitors to see some of the rooms on the upper floors of the mansion, including a "play room" that features Pogany's work on both the ceiling and the columns. 

For this project, Pogany created works depicting a Venetian carnival. This whimsical painting of John and Mabel can be seen on the ceiling. It made me wonder if John played the guitar. The answer is yes! (Actually, it was a bass viol, which explains the smallish size of the instrument.) Before the days of the circus, John and four of his brothers toured as a vaudeville show. Who knew? For more fun facts about Ringling, click here. Now back to our tour.  

Notwithstanding the fact that Ca' d'Zan was built smack dab in the middle of Prohibition, the home featured a taproom where John could share his private label bourbon with guests. The room wasn't original to Ca' d'Zan. When dining at the Cicardi Winter Garden Restaurant in St. Louis, Ringling was taken with the setting. "Ah," he thought. "This would be perfect for my new home in Florida." So he bought the room lock, stock and barrel, had it dismantled, put on a train and reinstalled in Ca' d'Zan. I suspect many a business deal was done there. 

Per the title of the tour, we also tromped through some of the more private spaces in the house. John's bedroom overlooked the Bay while Mabel's had a view of her rose garden. Perhaps not surprisingly, the word "comfortable" does not came to mind. I imagined myself lying on one of the beds ramrod straight so as not to muss the covers. If you click here for a picture of John's bedroom, you'll see what I mean. The painting at which he gazed when having trouble sleeping is "Dawn Driving Away the Darkness" by Jacob de Wit. The title makes me wonder what demons Ringling contemplated during the night. 

While very glitzy, the bathrooms are not what I would call inviting. I can only imagine how cold those marble floors could get. (We do get some chilly weather here, after all.) 

Each bathtub was carved from a single piece of marble and featured four faucets. Bathers could choose hot or cold fresh or salt water. In case you're wondering, the benefits of soaking in salt water include relief from soreness and lower stress levels. The mansion also had an exercise room that featured a massage table and a Vibrating Belt Machine. (Think "I Love Lucy.") Perhaps John enjoyed a cold salt water plunge after his work out. 

I'll leave you with a view from Belvedere Tower, the crowning glory of Ca' d'Zan. Ringling claimed that the best view of Sarasota from his 81' tower. (Not coincidentally, "Belvedere" means "beautiful view" in Italian.) Today many buildings here offer similar vistas, but it's still quite impressive. 

Once again, I neglected to ask the question that came to mind when I looked at my pictures. Why are there sculptures of squirrels on the cupolas? Was it just a random choice of the architect? Probably not. A little research (thanks, Google!) revealed that squirrels are typically considered a symbol of abundance, resourcefulness and foresight with a dash of playfulness thrown in for good measure. Another interpretation views them as greedy, likely due to the way they grasp their acorns to their little chests. I suspect that Ringling had a bit of all those traits. 

With that, our time in the Ca' d'Zan's private spaces was over. It was fun to take a peek into the way the Ringlings lived, but I was more than happy to return to my own much cozier abode. For more on Ca' d'Zan, click here. And to book your own tour of these spaces, click here. Happy explorations! 

"Timeless Mucha: The Magic of Line" at the Boca Raton Museum of Art

The Boca Raton Museum of Art is now home to "Timeless Mucha: The Magic of Line." I was in the area for the holidays, so I obviously had to go. Mucha's work is not only beautiful; it is the poster child for the Art Nouveau movement. I mean that literally. Mucha's 1894 poster for Gismonda -- starring none other than Sarah Bernhardt -- was entirely different than the typical poster of the era. 

The Gismonda poster was long and narrow rather than the size of, well, poster board. Its colors were subtle instead of screaming "look at me." Its focus was an image rather than text. It's hard today to think of these changes as being radical, and yet they were. 

Then there's the depiction of Bernhardt as Gismonda. Despite the image being on a poster, it is undeniably Art (capital "A" intended). Most notable for viewers today is the inclusion of the "halo" that became Mucha's signature element. 

What, you might wonder, was the response to Mucha's work? Bernhardt loved it and contracted with the artist to create posters, sets and costumes for her projects for the next six years. To see these posters, click here. (Sadly, I can't find a link for the costumes or sets.) The public also loved his work. In fact, Mucha's posters had a habit of disappearing from the walls on which they had been hung and turning up in people's homes. Cue the plug for the Art Deco poster exhibit now on display at Sarasota Art Museum. 

It was a treat to see so many of Mucha's works in one place. But the Mucha Foundation had more in mind when creating this exhibit than merely showcasing the artist's work. The Foundation also wanted to highlight how Mucha's style influenced later generations of artists, especially graphic designers of the 1960s and '70s working in a psychedelic style. I particularly liked this pairing of Mucha's poster for JOB, a French manufacturer of cigarette rolling papers, and Stanley Mouse and Alton Kelley's tour poster for the Jim Kweskin Jug Band. (I've never heard of them either.) 

The standard wall card for this work notes that both images are classic Mucha because of the woman's abundant flowing locks. Got it. More interesting was the card with "stage cues for families" and "maestro's note for grown-ups." Kids were invited to follow a strand of the woman's hair and think about the shape it makes and the sound it evokes. Adults were encouraged to ask their young companions how the shapes in the work impacted the poster's mood. This is the second exhibit I've seen recently with family-friendly wall cards. I hope it's a trend. 

Another fun component of the exhibit was the inclusion of photographs from Mucha's private collection. This trio of works was showcased on a stand-alone wall and was my favorite vignette in the exhibit. The woman in this photo can be seen in the "Precious Stones: Emerald" lithograph. (To see the entire Precious Stone series, click here.) 

Then there's the Japanese cloisonne vase that's in the case. Mucha kept this vase in his studio, which he referred to as "The Cathedral of Beauty." I'm a bit unclear as to the relationship between this vase and the one in the photo. The designs look to be the same, but there's obviously a significant size differential. In any event, as beautiful as the vase is, it didn't make it into the lithograph. Instead, if you look carefully at the image in the link, you'll see that the woman is calmly resting her head on a snake. I get that a snake has the sinuous lines Mucha favored, but would she really be so relaxed???  

Visitors also had the opportunity to become a Mucha work of art themselves. Well, kinda sorta. I couldn't resist donning the multi-strand pearl necklace and floral headband and striking a pose. Happily, Oscar was willing to slip on the banadana provided for male "models" and join me for the shot. (Thanks, TJ, for serving as photographer!) It was fun and another great way to get people engaged with the exhibit. 

"Timeless Mucha: The Magic of Line" continues at the Boca Museum of Art through May 3rd. Don't miss it if you're in the area. Also on display are a cool assortment of photographs by Eduardo Chacon and highlights from the Museum's collection. For more information, click here. 

A Visit to the St. Augustine Lighthouse & Maritime Museum

St. Augustine Lighthouse circa 1874

The Lighthouse & Maritime Museum was my favorite of the historic sites we visited in St. Augustine. Who doesn't love a good lighthouse? 

St. Augustine's initial watchtower was built by the Spanish in the 1500s and stood more or less in this same spot. The first U.S. lighthouse in this location (again, more or less) dates back to 1824. When the structure began succumbing to the sea in the 1870s, the current lighthouse was built a bit further ashore. It stands 165 feet tall, and its beacon can be seen as far as 24 nautical miles away. (As you probably know, a nautical mile is a bit longer than a land mile due to the curvature of the earth.) These facts, while interesting enough, are a bit dry. What was fun about our visit was the experiential component.  

Not surprisingly, the only way to get to the top of the lighthouse is to climb. The Museum has made this journey -- 219  steps -- a bit less painful by featuring great graphics with fun facts along the way. The info that made the biggest impression on me was that you burn 24 calories going up all those steps and 11 calories coming down. What???!!! That seems like an impossibly small number. Not to mention, why give us this discouraging factoid in the midst of the climb? The only reason I can think of is providing visitors with full disclosure before they feel entitled to have dessert with dinner. Now back to some history. 

The lighthouse wasn't electrified until 1936. Until then, the lighthouse keepers had to climb the steps multiple times each night with fuel to feed the oil lamp that lit the lighthouse's beacon. Visitors had the opportunity to lift a bucket to get a sense of what that task would have been like. I could barely get it off the ground. In my defense, it weighed 30 pounds (the equivalent of the bucket filled with oil), but I'm still hoping my trainer doesn't read this post. The bottom line is that the lighthouse keeper had to be pretty darn strong. 

It's worth noting that there were two female lighthouse keepers who undertook this task along with the other duties involved in keeping the lighthouse operating. Maria Andreu assumed these responsibilities in 1859 after her husband fell to his death painting the lighthouse tower. She was the second Hispanic-American to serve in the Coast Guard, the branch of the Armed Services with responsibility for the lighthouse. (Her husband was the first.) 

The second woman to hold this position was Kate Harn. She inherited the role in 1889 after her husband died of tuberculosis. Harn held the job for six months, the time necessary for her husband's pension to vest. Harn juggled this job with raising the couple's five daughters who still lived at home. (Their sixth daughter was already out in the world.) Color me impressed.

The Fresnel Lens

When you arrive at the topmost landing of the lighthouse, you are eye level with the Fourth-Order Fresnel lens that serves as the lighthouse's beacon. (The "order" refers to its size and strength, with lower numbers being more powerful.) Each angle and curve of the lens has been precisely measured to magnify the reach of the light. 

The 20+ mile reach of the beam wasn't always a good thing. During WWII the Germans targeted Allied ships illuminated by the light. After a few months the powers that be figured out the problem and instituted a blackout. The strength of the lighthouse beam was lowered from the equivalent of a 1,000 watt bulb to a 50 watt bulb. Four miles of inland lights were dimmed as well. "The Second Happy Time" of the Germans came to an end. 

Taking in the view with Oscar

When you get to the top of the lighthouse, you're rewarded with a lovely view of Matanzas Bay, the Atlantic and downtown St. Augustine. After taking the requisite photos, you descend down the 219 steps to exit the building. Did I mention before that it's a narrow spiral staircase? I actually found going up easier than going down. 

While the Lighthouse is the draw, there's more to explore at the site. You can tour the watchkeeper's house (which was surprisingly grand). You can watch traditional boatmaking in action compliments of the folks at Heritage Boatworks. (The wooden boats made me think of my days in Nova Scotia.) And there's an education center with interactive exhibits to amuse even the youngest visitor. It's all very well done. On my next visit to St. Augustine, I'll go for one of the Ghost Tours. You get to climb the lighthouse using only a glow stick for illumination. What could go wrong? 

For more on the St. Augustine Lighthouse & Maritime Museum, click here. It's a must-see/do if you're in the area. In the meantime, may your holidays be as bright as the beam of the St. Augustine Lighthouse. 

Five Sites to See in St. Augustine

Lightner Museum 

Despite having grown up in Florida, I somehow had never made it to St. Augustine until now. Settled in 1565 by the Spanish, it's the oldest city in the United States. That's a lot of history to take in! Read on to learn about five sites we took in during our getaway. 

1) Shockingly (not), the impetus for the trip was not a history lesson but to see the holiday lights. St. Augustine does Christmas in a big way, stringing more than 3,000,000 lights on buildings and palm trees and hedges throughout the downtown area. As we say in my family, nothing succeeds like excess. People can enjoy the Night of Lights (which miraculously lasts almost two months) on foot or by trolley or carriage. We opted for a trolley tour and were rewarded with some groan inducing holiday-themed jokes, hot cider and a sugar cookie. I recommend it! 

57th Columbia Light Roadster High Wheel (1889(

2) The Lightner Museum (shown above) was built as a hotel by Henry Flagler in 1888. The ground floor of the hotel featured a large swimming pool filled with filtered sulfur water where male guests could get in a few laps. (There was a separate pool for the women.) Today the area is home to the Museum's restaurant. For some pics of then and now, click here. 

Known for its fine and decorative 19th c. art collection, the Museum is home to many, many dusty objects. Interesting enough, but not exactly my cup of tea. I did, however, enjoy the vintage bicycle collection from the Keith Pariani collection. The text for this bike noted that "The prospective rider devoted weeks of effort and endured frequent spills acquiring the correct technique for mounting the vehicle." Um, yeah. 

Cheers! 

3) No visit to St. Augustine is complete without a stop at the Fountain of Youth. As you probably know, Ponce de Leon arrived on the west coast of Florida back in 1513. He had been told by Native Americans that restorative waters existed near Bimini that gave those who partook of them a newfound spring in their step. When his fleet ran low on fresh drinking water, Ponce had an idea. Why not go for a two-fer and replenish their store of water from the rejuvenating springs? Ponce's navigation skills were a bit off, though, and the ships landed near what is now St. Augustine instead of the Bahamas. 

Today, the legend is perpetuated at the Fountain of Youth Archaeological Park. We spent a fun morning there that included taking a sip of the sulfuric spring water. You can taste every one of the 30+ minerals in it. I can't say that I feel (or look) any younger, but a girl can dream. If you go, don't miss the chance to fire a faux cannon. For more on the Fountain of Youth, click here.  

Fort Matanzas

4) My biggest historical takeaway from the trip was compliments of a guide on our visit to Fort Matanzas, the only Spanish watchtower in the United States. Did you know that cannonfire could reach up to three miles away? It is from this fun fact that the now defunct three mile limit to a country's territorial waters was derived. Sure, it was hard to have an accurate aim at that distance, but 18 pounds of iron coming at your wooden vessel would get your attention. 

As far as forts go, this is a cute one. Fort Matanzas was home to between seven and 15 men. Even at the minimum number of residents, the quarters would have been tight. The soldiers must have been trim because the opening to the lookout area was none too roomy. Of course people are bigger these days.

Fort Matanzas was owned by the Spanish until 1821, when the United States took control. It was never used in military operations again. For more on the site, click here.

Cannon at Castillo de San Marcos

5) Castillo de San Marcos is a more sizable fort that protected the citizens of St. Augustine (then under the control of Spain) from both conflicts and natural disasters. After a sequence of nine wooden forts at this site failed to protect St. Augustine and its fleet from attack, the Spaniards wisened up and used coquina as their building material. Coquina is a type of stone made more or less out of compressed seashells. In addition to being fireproof, the stone could absorb cannonfire rather than succumb to it. (The fact that the walls are 12 feet thick was also helpful.) 

Both the location and the design of the Castillo were carefully chosen. Situated on the winding, narrow channel of the Matanzas River, neither pirates (!) nor warships could turn broadside to deploy their weapons. Clever. Then there's the Castillo itself, which is shaped like a five-pointed star. The configuration forced would-be invaders into position where they would get caught in a crossfire. 

The Castillo also featured a deep, wide ditch surrounding the walls of the structure. Yes, it was a moat, but not of the variety you might envision. Other than a period in the 1900s when the National Park Service flooded the ditch, it was a dry moat. Keeping the moat water-free was a practical decision. When the city was under attack, both its citizens and their livestock evacuated to the Castillo. The people harbored inside while the animals lived and grazed in the moat. In case you're concerned, the banks of the moat and the surrounding landscape protected the animals from attack. They were, after all, the residents' primary food source. For more on the Castillo de San Marcos, click here. 

Whew. That's a lot of history!  I'm going to let my brain rest for a few days before sharing my favorite historical site we visited -- the St. Augustine Lighthouse & Historical Museum. Stay tuned!