I’ve been dreaming of flying again in a new way. But until then there’s a really nice, seldom used mountain bike sitting in my garage. Maybe I should get a little more saddle time. Take it easy. Get some thrills. But minimize costs and risks.
But at my age and skill level, I’ll be leaping inches into the air while riding that mountain bike in Florida’s flat sand.
This is exactly how the world looks when I’m flying, unfettered in my dreams. Looking down or backward, a spherical world rolls by. Looking out, I see the more traditional perspective typical of my piloting days.
Things really get interesting when my dreams take me mountain flying, on a dark star-lit night. It is sometimes confusing, But the freedom and the experience are exhilarating. I love those dreams.
Here’s another Alaskan paramotoring adventure.
What freedom! Could I find that freedom in Florida?
Experienced pilots who try paragliding/motoring, often enjoy and find it a more rewarding experience than any other kind of flight.
Is this just a dream for me? Or are dreams destined to become reality? Am I too old? Would it cost too much?
Truth is, I’d like to ditch the engine, fuel and noise associated with paramotoring. It’s one step backward toward my airplane flying days. How my son glides around Hawaii is more like it.
But sandy South Florida isn’t volcanic Hawaii. It might take more than just a sea breeze and a sand hill to get my fat butt off the ground.
I just retired. Now I have the time. Not sure about the strength or money.
Time to get some help from my cliff jumping, wing suit flying son. If possible, it’s something this old man would find worth pursuing.
A friend stopped by and left some boiled Cassava, some roots, and some cuttings. So, it’s time to plant Cassava.
But how does it grow? And how to properly plant it?
My wife, raised where Cassava, also known as Yuca, is a food staple, contemptuously says, “You just stick it in the ground!”
That’s not good enough for me. Is it a tree or a bush? Planting? At what spacing? How deep? Does it need something special?
She heads for the shovel.
I head for the computer. First things first! Just how do you spell it anyway?
Once the hard part is done, there’s some great information at Wikipedia and The UN. And many videos at YouTube.
Turns out Cassava is a really neat plant.
6′ tall tropical looking shrub.
grows in acidic poor soils.
has nutritious root and leaves.
has many culinary uses.
has good yields.
can be planted anytime.
Having eaten it before, I know it tastes good simply boiled or fried.
No wonder man has spread it from Brazil throughout most of the tropical world, where it has displaced many native foods.
Once thought of as poor-man’s-food, it now commands a high enough price that it’s sold as a cash crop. But it’s not without problems.
Turns out she was right. A 15cm cutting is just stuck into the ground.
Not all is lost with the research. Did I mention I now know how to spell Cassava. :)
Get the wife and the shovel.
We’re headed to the garden. To do it her way.
In a couple of minutes, the Cassava is in the ground. Doesn’t get any easier than that.
Although the leaves are edible, it’s the roots that are harvested. Here’s a look a the process from cutting to root:
Even the rooster is amazed!
Here’s how to do it on a larger scale:
The cuttings are in the ground. And now there’s something to look forward to. No, not a bunch of roots a year from now. It’s boiled Cassava waiting for us in the kitchen!
My wife does some magic on the remaining mushrooms and some Choi from the Farmer’s Market. What a delightful combination of flavors and mouth-feel.
Another great meal with my wife. Life is good! And will be even better when I see the first shoots and then roots from my own Cassava.
And then I’ll make some cuttings and share them. This is how I’ll do it:
Cassava, with its historical and cultural ties, is a neat plant. Who would have thought that a Old Wyoming boy like me would be planting them in Florida while the rest of the nation is buried in winter snow.
Arriving, the weather was idyllic. We walked along the boat docks observing sea life and seeing what the rich and famous do in their spare time. Some of those boats are huge and very expensive.
It’s at the east end of Orange Street, in historic downtown Ft. Pierce, next to the seawall.
dozens of craft and art vendors.
prepared ethnic foods.
fresh and organic vegetables/meat.
orchids and tropical plants.
a very casual, relaxed atmosphere.
plenty of parking.
an idyllic seaside setting.
lots of seaside/park tables and benches.
Approaching the market, live music greets us. It’s good! So good in fact that we spent an hour setting on the seawall. Listening to the music. And watched pelicans feed on the schools of fish as they swim by.
A young couple begins dancing. The man in his 80’s, and a slightly younger woman captured everyone’s attention. They dance and swoop. Her head is just inches from the ground.
After the initial fear of an impending accident dissipated, the dancer’s joy spread throughout the crowd as they demonstrated their youthful exuberance and skill. They clearly were not amateurs.
The music’s effect wasn’t lost on those 20 times younger, who instinctively jumped and twirled to the beat. They were having just as much fun.
Like almost everyone else, I was too shy and unskilled to join either group. If you’ve been here awhile, that’s no surprise as I written about my dancing before.
The prepared food was enticing. Who can resist those ethnic aromas?
It’s early, just 9am. But short lines are already forming as people succumbed to a treat while walking along the seawall.
For me, just after breakfast. It’s just too early. A little later in the day would be another story. Next time we’ll come a little later.
More time there relaxing, chatting, and enjoying watching the fish, birds and people. Then it’s time for a little shopping.
There’s some good-looking produce. The prices are comparable with the grocery store. But there’s no comparing the quality. This stuff is fresh.
Now, my wife is in her element.
looking for the freshest.
catching the bargains.
finding the rare and exotic.
My part is to stand back and get out-of-the-way.
When we meet, I’ll commander any full shopping bags. And she’s off again. We’ll share her finds later.
I buy a little honey, a strange act for a life-long but retired beekeeper, now without bees. Then I find myself gawking at some mushrooms.
That’s where we our paths cross.
It’s some of our favorite mushrooms in the bag. It’s past 12 and time to go.
more leisurely time enjoying the music.
some people watching.
chatting with a few passers-by.
And then it’s home to a great lunch of:
fresh mushrooms, onions, garlic.
sliced heritage tomatoes and cucumbers with olive oil and herbs.
a little wine.
All but the wine and olive oil came from the Farmer’s Market. And it cost just $16. That’s a bargain for a gourmet meal that would cost 10 times that amount prepared at a restaurant.
What a beautiful day. What an enjoyable way to spend some leisurely time with my wife. And get a great lunch. This makes for some great Florida winter memories. And I’m liking it.
A year ago, Vivienne a Florida friend, shipped us a box of ripe Carambola fruit from her tree.
We had eaten a few purchased locally. In many stores, they’re marketed by their shape as star fruit. In the Caribbean they’re known as Carambola avoiding confusion with another tropical fruit. They were interesting but not inspiring.
Vivienne’s were different. They were fantastic. One bite. Oh my gosh! These perfectly ripe fruit were:
yellow with a rosy hue.
very juicy with very little pulp.
Perfectly ripe Carambola are the most refreshing fruit I’ve ever eaten. What a tropical treat for someone frozen in a Wyoming winter.
Most Carambola fruit is sold unripe. They are:
yellow with a green hue.
have green on the ridges.
lack floral aroma.
more crisp than juicy.
Given time, unripe fruit will ripe. But they don’t develop the sweetness and floral aroma of tree ripen fruit.
Ripe fruit quickly becomes over-ripe in just a couple of days. They:
loose the rosy hue.
rapidly develop brown ridges and spots.
have an off flavor.
are very soft.
Over-ripe fruit to rotten takes less than a day.
Fast forward, a year later.
we’re living in Florida.
Vivienne calls us.
her Carambola tree is full of ripe fruit.
others are harvesting the fruit.
come and get some before it’s gone.
Don’t need to ask us twice. It’s an hour and a half to Vivienne’s. And it’s Carambola picking time!
Carambola is a beautiful and unusual tree. The fruit crop peaks twice a year. But the tree blooms while fruit develops and ripens. So there’s usually some ripe fruit available most of the time.
Vivienne’s vivacious smile and sparkling eyes welcome us. It’s always good to see her.
Even after a week of harvest by others, her tree is still full of ripe fruit.
Tree ripe fruit falls at the slightest touch or branch movement. That makes fruit easy to harvest. But dropped fruit is bruised fruit which quickly spoils. So disturbing branches is bad. And any wind is devastating.
Fruit not reached by hand, is harvested using a small basket mounted on a long pole. Just touch a ripe fruit. It falls into the basket. Fruit not falling when touched is left to ripen. Vivienne grabs the pole and shows me how.
From the quantity of flower buds to over-ripe fruit, I’m overwhelmed. As a kid picking berries, the first one’s picked never made it into the bucket. So with Carambola.
I don’t think human history would have been the same if Carambola trees existed on the African plains. Our distant relatives would never have come down from them. And we’d still be up there eating Carambola fruit. ;)
A nice visit and a large cardboard box of fruit later. It’s back home.
And from personal experience there’s nothing more refreshing and vitalizing that a chilled tree ripen Carambola fruit eaten on a hot Florida day. And just one fruit is never enough.
So Carambola is a must have tree for the yard.
Thanks Vivienne. And a special thanks to Ian Maguire who owns some of the images above. Yes, I was having too much fun picking and eating Carambola. And I forgot to take enough pictures. ;)