I've passed these trees many times on my way back home from places, and I love their gothic cloaked drama. They're frozen in what seems like a continuous Boo. But, really, they're just unfortunate to be set in a lot that no one pays much attention to-they're smothered by an invasive vine that doesn't belong here. An errant combination of man and nature's symbiosis rules this yard, so much so that now the trees are less of what they are than what they're covered in. Actors must feel this, when they're more of who they're pretending to be than they are themselves.
Symbiosis is such a factor of life that you could say it defines life-we are what we are joined to, physically and emotionally. Florida is like a visual symbiosis encyclopedia, and its effects are almost impossible to avoid-almost every walled community is framed by drainage canals gone jungle-dark thick tangles of life growing around and onto and into each other.
We don't have the kudzu of the deep South, but we have things like strangler figs, clutching palms as they grip and squeeze and choke.
So many things shoot out roots and climb-and faster than you would think possible.
And duckweed spreads,
until the water seems solid, and both are inseparable.