THE MYTH OF THE LONELY SNOWBIRD

Not long ago, a friend asked whether I ever get bored or lonely when I fly south solo for the winter. I actually laughed, because I don’t have the time, the bandwidth, or frankly the inclination to be either bored or lonely.

Let’s start with the obvious: I stay busy. I’m still writing my historical novels, and I still work most weeks as a contract consultant. And lonely? Hardly. I sometimes spend an evening with a charming neighbor I’ve come to know over the past few years. I also know a handful of fellow snowbirds who migrate to the Sunshine State when I do. We meet up, catch up, and compare notes on humidity, lizards, and hurricanes. Contractors appear in my driveway more often than I’d like, and my clients keep me on Zoom so regularly that I occasionally forget which state I’m in.

I’ve also been exploring more of Florida - both coasts, thank you very much - wandering, sightseeing, and jumping into whatever activities sound like fun. Every other weekend, I pop over to Disney Springs to shop, people‑watch, and sample restaurants like it’s my part‑time job.

But the real star of my winter routine? Bok Tower Gardens. Technically, it’s not new. My grandfather first took me there when I was about fifteen. I rediscovered it a couple of years ago with my son, and this year I finally bought a membership.

Worth. Every. Penny.

Bok Tower Gardens

I go to Bok as often as my schedule allows. I walk the dreamy 250 acres for exercise. I take Saturday morning yoga classes under the shade of a giant tree, where squirrels often scurry past the edge of my mat like tiny, judgmental personal trainers. Some days, I pack a picnic and a good book, then claim a shady spot on the hill overlooking what seems like endless miles of Florida scenery. The last time I did that, I spent three hours doing absolutely nothing except relaxing, eating, and reading. It was glorious. I regret nothing.

When I return in the fall, I’ll be trying out more classes and attending some of the many concerts hosted at Bok.

So that’s the life of a solo snowbird.

Lonely? Not even a little.

Bored? Not for a moment.