Of Slash Pines and Manatees

Through stories of nature near at hand, a South Florida

writer offers a unique view of humans and the environment amid

development and change



Wings

and talons clatter against a windowpane. Foxes den under a deck. Pines

stand in quarter-acre lots, recalling a vanished forest. In this book,

Andrew Furman explores touchpoints between his everyday suburban life

and the environment in South Florida, contemplating his place in a

subtropical landscape stretching from the Everglades to the warm

Atlantic coast. Transportive vignettes of encounters in the natural

world blend with ordinary, all-too-relatable stories of home and family

life in these chapters. Puzzled and fascinated by the plants and animals

he meets while continually preoccupied by busy domestic routines,

Furman illustrates the beauty of his "suburban wilderness." He also

reckons with changes and threats to the surrounding landscape. How, he

asks, should humans go about living in what is simultaneously one of the

most overdeveloped and most naturally beautiful states in the country?





Furman's meditations give rise to an

environmental ethic that challenges distinctions between nature and

culture, wilderness and civilization, solitude and family life. Rather,

with humor and hope, he encourages readers to engage in life with the

mindset that the human and non-human are inextricably connected--and to

ask how they can better belong together.



Of Slash Pines and Manatees

is a creative and memorable example for anyone seeking to live

responsibly and richly in a world impacted by human activity. Furman

inspires readers to focus fiercely on the local, to conduct their own

adventures in the ecosystem outside their front doors, and to see that

even in the most overdeveloped areas, what is wild persists.







Funding

for this publication was provided through a grant from Florida

Humanities with funds from the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this

publication do not necessarily represent those of Florida Humanities or

the National Endowment for the Humanities.