~~~ Pink Flamingos ~~~
They are the ultimate in Florida kitsch, an affront to the senses of anyone with mannered upbringing and the target of ire in many a homeowner-run community. What am I babbling mindlessly about? Why *Pink Flamingos* of course!
No, silly, not the real deal. The warm-blooded and feathered variety are breathtakingly beautiful. In fact, although they are found in abundant numbers in the southern region of the Sunshine State, flamingos are not native. The Caribbean, or American flamingo may visit Florida for a short time while searching for food, but it has not been associated as a species native to Florida.
Anyway, back on track….the *Flamingos* to which I am referring are the funny, trashy-yet-oh-so-chic, plastic pink flamingos. Every lawn in south Florida should have them. They're colorful, festive (try putting some red and green bows on them at Christmas - but, more on that later) and definitely make the statement that *You* have *arrived.* (At least your front yard has).
While living in Sebastian a few years ago, I remember squealing with delight while perusing the local Wal Mart outdoors department and spying a pair of pink plastic flamingos in a box on the shelf. Faster than you could say, "Are you nuts?" they found their way into my shopping cart, through the check-out line, into my car and onto my front lawn. I lovingly hosed them off when the yellow pine pollen soiled their effusive *pink*ness. I decorated their graceful, long necks with red and green ribbons at Christmastime. They made me smile broadly each and every day after returning home from a long, hard day at work and gazing upon their stoic yet whimsical forms while rolling up the driveway. Truly a tonic for the forlorn soul.
One day, while driving down the street on my way home from work, as I approached the house, I realized something was amiss. Only *one* pink form could be seen at its permanent home by the front door. Where was the other one?
Upon closer inspection, I found that the second pink flamingo was buried beneath the behemoth frond of the queen palm under which they lived. It seems a small wind storm had passed through sometime that afternoon as they are wont to do during the summer months in FL. A giant frond snapped free and plummeted straight to earth atop one of my beloved pink flamingos. Raising my tear-stained face heavenward, I conceded, "OK, Lord, I can take a hint." With that, I removed the one good flamingo and the broken, twisted remains of the other, and lovingly placed them in a corner of the garage where they remained until a later spring cleaning warranted their relocation to the local land-fill.
Somehow returning home each day thereafter just didn't seem the same…
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