This sort of meditation brings memories, in this case of
earlier trips to Florida. Then up floated a name: Boca Raton. That place is way
higher than Miami, and looking at it one sees no bays of any sort. This got me
curious. I learned that the original name had been Boca Ratones—and that raton is a mouse, not a rat, in Spanish;
the word for rat is rata, pl. ratas. Next I learned that the original
location of that name was actually associated with the much more southerly Bay
of Biscayne. Well. That bay is a pretty good-sized boca, meaning mouth. So. The Mouth of the Mice.
The marvels of modern life. With Google’s satellite mapping
images, I started to look for the teeth
of those mice. My assumption was that that gracefully curving thin line of
islands that form the Florida Keys and then run in parallel with Florida’s land mass might at one time have been more prominent at the outer edge of that
bay. The next two pictures show the map itself and then a closeup of a portion
immediately south of Key Biscayne. Here they are:
Quite
visible in the center of the second picture, faintly brown, are rock formations
lying close to the surface of the ocean—and the black channels mark the places
where water had once carved paths for itself as it flowed into the sea. Was
that rock lying higher in the old, old days when Boca Ratones had been named? I
expect so. Or were sea-levels lower? To answer that question I’d have to
undergo serious study—rather than meditating idly on an upcoming trip into places quite wondrously
different than the eastern edge Michigan where once the Penobscot people
roamed.
Departure is now T minus 27 days and counting!
ReplyDeleteI'm pretty sure I can wait out four more weeks of winter, especially if it continues to be as mild as the last four weeks have been.