In Miami we live close to downtown, surrounded by big buildings and rushing traffic. One advantage is the shade they provide. We almost never have to walk in the sun which, nine months of the year, blasts like a furnace. A huge disadvantage of city life is noise: car horns, jack hammers, plus the two most popular devices–pressure cleaners (the sidewalks are blasted weekly) and the eternal leaf blower (a penis with a motor).
There is respite. Two blocks from our building we enter Simpson Park, a five and a half-acre remnant of the hardwood hammock that once stretched twenty miles from Cutler Ridge to the Miami River.
Noise ceases. The temperature drops five degrees. In blessed silence we walk through a canopy of native plants and trees: wild cinnamon, coffee, yellow boxwood, silver palm, spicewood, satin leaf and pigeon plum.
Occasionally nature reaches back: this little guy lost his mom; park staff is taking care of him.