Satan's food

at least, according to John Milton in Paradise Lost, in which the fallen angels eat apple of Sodom, instead of the actual apples that they had forfeited. "Apple of Sodom" is the provocative name of Calotropis procera, a tropical shrub in the milkweed family. The plant is commonly cultivated here in coastal Yucatan, and in bloom, it is gorgeous.

This six-foot plant grows in almost pure sand, in shallow soil, in dryland areas. It tolerates salt, hence its popularity in some beachside communities. Its taproot holds soil. As a member of the milkweed family, it can host monarch butterfly caterpillars. In its native range of parts of Africa and Asia, it has served as a cover crop and green manure and has long been used in traditional medicines. Beautiful, tough, useful: what's not to like?

Plenty, it turns out.

First, it spreads. This lovely plant produces lots of seeds, nestled in silk and carried away on the winds. Given its propensity for growing in areas where most plants struggle, it is now found throughout the tropics and in many subtropical areas, including Hawaii.

Second, because it attracts butterflies and can host monarchs, Calotropis shows up on lists of good butterfly plants, and from what I have read (and the numbers of monarchs I am seeing here), it does indeed feed monarch cats and other lepidoptera. However, like all invasives, Calotropis displaces native species and disrupts already-fragile ecosystems. Enough habitats are at risk already; we do not need to make the situation worse because of our fondness for pretty flowers and orange butterflies. 

 Third, Calotropis, like all milkweeds, contains toxic alkaloids, a trait that helps to keep it from being eaten (and increases its invasiveness). However, in the dryland areas where the plant is most likely to spread, hungry goats and sheep have been known to browse it, with unfortunate (though fortunately not generally fatal) effects. Still, endangering the livestock and livelihoods of small farmers is not a good idea. The plant is so toxic and so invasive that South Africa and Australia have not only banned its cultivation but have ordered its eradication wherever it is found.

I would not go so far as to call this lovely thing Satanic, but it does seem to be a baleful beauty.

Less clumsy than they look

A perched pelican is a comical sight, like these specimens spotted on Cozumel last year. 

Who wouldn't love that face?

However, a squadron of pelicans, or even an individual, flying overhead is something else, riding the air with a grace one might not expect in such an ungainly-looking bird.

And when they dive--oh my.

They come down fast, from heights of as much as 65 feet according to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, deadly dive-bombers aiming for fish that they can see even underwater and from that distance. Here on the Gulf, they put on quite a show, particularly in the mornings and late afternoons. Gulls trail after them, hoping that fish will slip from a pelican's distended pouch as it drains the water, though I have seen few successful thefts.

The pelicans, however, do signal their fishing success. Once a pelican leans its head back and swallows, it does a most entertaining little butt-wiggle. 

The things one learns by sitting on the terrace.

What a wonderful world

Sometimes life has its perfect moments. This past weekend, visiting Ohio friends and I joined some friendly Canadians from the neighborhood for the Full Moon Jazz Festival at Telchac Puerto. This annual event, sponsored by Telchac Education, raises money for the school expenses of fifty students from that village, including college tuition for eleven young people majoring in fields ranging from tourism to dentistry. Even if the event itself were a dud, what a great cause.

But the event was definitely worth attending for its own sake. Several hundred people of a variety of ages, ethnicities, and nationalities gathered at an elegant condominium resort for excellent food, drink, listening, dancing, and socializing. Nearly five hours of live music included a young woman totally owning songs first made popular by the likes of Ella Fitzgerald when the current performer's grandmother (or possibly great-grandmother) was a girl, followed by a big band with a handsome thirtyish singer whose repertoire ranged from Queen to Frank Sinatra. The group's rendition of Van Morrison's classic "Moondance" (which has long had my vote for one of the sexiest songs of all time) found a seventyish man at the next table playing a mean air guitar while his female companion (looking good in a little black dress) scatted accompaniment to the main vocalist. Dozens of couples, groups, and singles enjoyed themselves on a dance floor set up over part of the venue's enormous pool. A no-longer-young couple jitterbugged with the energy of people fifty years their juniors, while the dancing of one young man in a shirt of almost blinding whiteness evoked memories of romantic old movies. Only one person fell into the pool and had to be hauled out by friends. 

Exploring the venue, I discovered stairs leading to a second-floor terrace behind the bar, where a few other people had gone to escape the (friendly and perfectly safe) crush of the main level where tables and folding chairs filled the garden and clustered around the complex's pools and pathways. The overhead setting gave a view of the stage and the dancers, with the Gulf of Mexico and the evening sky shimmering in their twilight blues and pinks. Lights placed in the palms were softly illuminating the scene, while the performers' light set bathed the dancers in changing hues and sent tiny beams of white light into the sky. When the singer began "What a Wonderful World," it was impossible to disagree. 

An oceanside setting. Musicians, singers, chefs, bartenders, and volunteers giving it their all. Couples with babies, baby boomer norteamericanos, well-to-do Meridanos, gorgeous young women and handsome young men of a variety of complexions, elegant abuelas and dapper gentlemen, everyone enjoying themselves under a just-past-full moon. 

Sometimes magic happens.