Monday, January 26, 2026

Mucha in Boca Raton, or How Czech Art Nouveau Flew to Florida.

Mucha in Boca Raton,

How Czech Art Nouveau Flew to Florida.

Not long ago, I wrote the first installment of my Florida trip, titled "From Mucha to Butterflies, or a Journey to Paradise." At the time, I didn't explain the title, but there was a specific reason behind it. You see, our tour of Boca Raton’s beaches and galleries didn't start with nature—it started with Mucha. Now, if you’re a fan of fine art, you know I’m talking about the legendary Alphonse Mucha. But if you aren't an art history buff, you might have spent the last few minutes wondering why I was so excited to see a "Mucha" (which, for my Russian-speaking friends, sounds exactly like the word for a common housefly!).

Even when we were planning where to go (the butterfly museum, the swamp with alligators, the Japanese Garden—which didn't happen, but, I hope, "hasn't happened yet"), my friend discovered that in her small Boca Raton, two world-class exhibitions were taking place. (The second one was a miracle we even got into. I won't write about the second exhibition in this story; I have to keep the suspense—wait for the next stories.)

And the exhibition of Alphonse Mucha’s works, "Timeless Mucha: The Magic of Line," is taking place, you could say, practically next to her house, in the local art museum. (I repeat on purpose that the town is small and the museum is small—don't think I’m not aware of that.)

I became interested in how the barely-on-the-map Boca Raton and a small art museum ended up on the list of museums worthy of hosting a major European exhibition organized by the Mucha Foundation.(?!)

I’m looking for information about the museum.

The history of this museum is a classic example of "bottom-up" initiative. It all began in 1950, when several local residents, burning with the idea of developing the arts, created the "Art Guild of Boca Raton." They had no building of their own and no official status, only a desire to unite the city around art. For a long time, they worked practically on a volunteer basis until they built their first building in 1962. Over time, the collections grew so much that the walls of the old house became too tight. Build a museum? Enthusiasm is one thing, but building requires money, and the amount needed just for construction was significant: 13 million. And, imagine, the museum opened in 2001 completely debt-free, which is a rare achievement for cultural organizations.

Where did the money come from?!

I’m searching...

There were several sources. The city supported the project by allocating precious land right in the center, in "Mizner Park," for a symbolic fee of one dollar a year. This form of long-term lease for 99 years became a decisive contribution from the municipality, allowing all collected donations to go directly toward building the walls and setting up the galleries. The state of Florida helped with grants through the Department of Cultural Affairs. However, the main burden fell on the shoulders of private patrons, thanks to whom they managed to raise the impressive sum (well, you remember, those same 13 million dollars).

Wealthy patrons—a general term; I’m looking for who exactly gave their money.

There were two wealthy families living in the city at that time... (Well, actually, there are ma-a-any wealthy families in Boca Raton! There were and still are. The question is where these wealthy families spend their money. Though, it’s their money—they spend it where they want.)

And those two wealthy families (Adolph and Henrietta de Hoernle and the Schmidt family, Charles and Dorothy) in the 1950s and 60s "competed" in donations to improve their city: building schools, hospitals, theaters...

And by the way, the de Hoernle family is a Count and Countess de Hoernle. Admit it, it became interesting: the main philanthropist of Boca Raton is Countess de Hoernle! It has a ring to it! The last name is practically impossible to read or pronounce, and the title for my plebeian ear feels like a promotion in status. Okay, irony aside, let's look for something about the Countess's life.

She was often called the "Queen of Charity" of Florida. And her story is like a classic novel: Henrietta was not born noble or titled; born in Germany in 1912, she was the daughter of musicians. Her life changed for the first time in 1931, at the age of eighteen, when she left Germany and sailed to New York to join her grandparents. The second time was when she married Count Adolph de Hoernle. The Count was her third husband, who adopted Henrietta’s two daughters from her previous marriages. I must disappoint you, as I was disappointed myself: Adolph de Hoernle did not inherit the title from ancient ancestors of the Middle Ages. It was a knightly title granted to him for his merits. The title of Count was granted to Adolph by the Order of Malta (more precisely, one of its branches recognized by the royal houses of Europe) in recognition of his huge contribution to humanitarian activities and philanthropy. (And why was I disappointed? He earned this title himself! On his own! He didn't just get it from his mom and dad.) Adolph, like Henrietta, was an immigrant. He came to the U.S. from Germany back in the 1920s with only a few dollars in his pocket, and by the time they met, he had already built a fortune in precision instrument manufacturing (Great Lakes Screw Corporation).

It was love at first sight: they met in 1950 and married two weeks after they met. In 1981, the couple moved to Boca Raton for retirement. Instead of just relaxing at their villa, Henrietta decided her mission was to spend money for the good of society. She was famous for her practicality and German bluntness; in the internet, one of her statements is striking for exactly that: "Money is like manure: if you don't spread it around, it’s no good, it just stinks. But if you spread it, it helps everything grow."

Though... if the internet is right, the Countess simply borrowed this phrase from Francis Bacon: "Money is like muck, not good except it be spread." (Bacon, essay "Of Usury," 17th century.) However, centuries change, but the essence of money does not.

Short in stature, she wore elaborate hats, which was her "trademark." Despite her status as a countess and huge donations, she was very frugal in daily life. They say she could buy a dress in a regular store for twenty dollars so that the thousands saved could go toward building a new soup kitchen for the poor. I really liked a sentence on Wikipedia: "Over the course of three decades, with the Countess taking the more public role as a leader or board member of a host of charity foundations, the Count followed her guidance in donating millions of dollars of his fortune." There it is, the secret to a happy marriage! (I say this almost without irony.)

When the museum was collecting those 13 million for the building in Mizner Park, Henrietta and her husband were among the first to write a check for a large sum. Henrietta lived an incredibly long and active life. She passed away in 2016 at the age of 103. Until her very last days, she could be found at events in the city.

For her 100th birthday, a booklet "Henrietta, Countess de Hoernle: A Biography" was published, where her famous sayings ("Quotable Quotes") were collected:

"Give while you live, so you know where your money goes. There are no checkbooks in the afterlife." (This was her main philosophy. At the same time, she wanted to personally see the buildings that were built with the money she gave.)

"I plan to leave this world with empty pockets. I want to spend every last cent on good deeds." (She almost achieved this, giving away more than 40 million dollars).

When she was asked at age 100 about the secret to her longevity, she replied: "The secret is to be too busy to die. I have so many meetings and openings on my calendar that death simply has nowhere to fit in."

She really disliked passivity: "Many people just sit on their money like hens on eggs, waiting for something to hatch. But to get a result, you have to get up and start acting."

She often poked fun at her style and hats (she had over two hundred in her collection). When asked why she needed so many, she answered: "If I wear a hat, people will notice me. And if they notice me, they will hear about the cause I support. A hat is my megaphone."

She often joked about her status as a countess as well: "A title doesn't make you better than anyone else. It just means you have to work twice as hard to prove you’re worth something without it."

Next to the museum stands the Amphitheater at Mizner Park, which bears the names of the Count and Countess de Hoernle. The museum gallery is named in her honor, as are many other buildings in Boca Raton. If you drive through the city, you can see her name on hospitals, schools, theaters, and, of course, at the museum. Somewhere near the museum stands a monument to the Count and Countess de Hoernle, but I’ve only seen it in photos.

But it’s not only the Countess that Boca Raton residents are indebted to. The museum's funds (over 4,500 exhibits) were formed mainly through large private donations.

The collection of Dr. John Mayers is perhaps the most valuable part. In 1989, he gifted the museum works by modernists: Degas, Matisse, Modigliani, Picasso, and Klee. The museum is proud of a serious collection of artifacts from ancient civilizations of America and Africa (a gift from the Kolker family). A significant part of the collection consists of 19th-20th century photographs (the Friedman collection).

The permanent collection, of course, is small, but it includes the Modigliani I love so much, and the Picasso I so hate (excuse my bluntness)... Even if it’s just one painting, the collection has the best of the best!

The museum is very active, focusing on "education through art": the museum has its own large art school where they teach everything from ceramics to digital photography. There are often meetings with curators and screenings of documentary films about artists (especially during exhibitions like Mucha's). They hold "Education Mornings" and Family Days with workshops. The exhibition "Timeless Mucha: The Magic of Line," which we attended, fits perfectly into the museum's current course: showing not only the classics of Art Nouveau but also its influence on the present day.

I won't tell you much about Alphonse Mucha; in the notes, I’ve collected articles and videos for you that will demonstrate, tell, explain, and interpret better than I can... I will only show you what I liked. Well, and I’ll have to explain a little so that everyone reading, regardless of their interests, understands what we’re talking about.

Alphonse Mucha (1860–1939) was an outstanding Czech artist whose name became synonymous with the Art Nouveau style. His works are concentrated beauty, harmony, and elegance of the turn of the century. (I just like him. Yes, he’s not "the greatest," one can find "flaws," but when you like someone, that doesn't matter, right?)

Mucha, self-portrait. Sketches in his Munich apartment, 1886, oil on canvas.

Art Nouveau (French for "new art") is an artistic movement in art at the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th century, roughly 1890–1910. (I also just like paintings and jewelry in this style.)

Mucha became famous literally overnight in 1894 when he created a poster for the play "Gismonda" starring the great actress Sarah Bernhardt. She was so impressed by his work that she signed an exclusive six-year contract with him.

The exhibition features those famous theater posters for Sarah Bernhardt.

"Gismonda" (1894) - the first poster that made Mucha famous overnight.

"La Dame aux Camélias" (1896). One of the most elegant images of the actress.

Hamlet, color lithograph from 1899.

A small side note. When Sarah Bernhardt first took the stage in the role of Hamlet in May 1899, she was 54 years old (she turned 55 in October of that year). She performed in a black doublet that emphasized her slender figure, allowing her to look significantly younger than her years. For that time, it was a bold and even scandalous step: an older woman taking on the role of the young prince, traditionally performed by men. (Is such a thing even possible for our time? And which actress would cope with such a role?!) However, for the "Divine Sarah," it became one of her greatest triumphs. Her prince was an energetic, decisive, passionate, and impulsive youth. Critics described her performance as "sunny" and devoid of traditional heaviness. In the famous graveyard scene, Sarah Bernhardt used a real human skull. Legend has it that it was a gift from the writer Victor Hugo. The production was so popular that in 1900, a short scene of the duel between Hamlet and Laertes was filmed. Thus, Sarah Bernhardt became the first actress to capture the image of Hamlet on film. I found a unique archival recording on YouTube: the film "Le Duel d'Hamlet," shot in 1900 for the World's Fair in Paris. Sarah Bernhardt is about 55 years old here. In this short clip, she performs the role of Prince Hamlet in the final duel scene with Laertes. Initially, the film was shown with "live" sound: during the screening, actors behind the screen (including Sarah Bernhardt herself) spoke the lines live and made the sounds of clashing swords to synchronize them with the image.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aXh9IbESHA0

"Lorenzaccio," 1896, color lithograph. Sarah Bernhardt played the leading male role in this play, written by Alfred de Musset in 1834. The action takes place in 16th-century Florence and tells of Lorenzo de' Medici’s murder of his cousin Alessandro de' Medici, the tyrant Duke of Florence, depicted here as a dragon at the top of the poster.

"Posters were a good way to educate the general public: people would stop and look at posters on their way to work, getting aesthetic pleasure from it; the streets turned into open-air art exhibitions." Alphonse Mucha.

His recognizable signature is women. Always impeccably beautiful, languid, imperturbably calm... I would love to be that beautiful!

"Reverie," 1897, color lithograph. Initially created for a Champenois publishing house calendar, this work was also released as a decorative panel. It depicts a young woman in an embroidered Slavic dress leafing through a book of sketches.

It seems to me that his paintings are liked more by women?

That is, the women depicted might be liked by men, but the paintings as a whole are for women. Or do you think differently? It would be interesting to talk to men about this. We women are happy to see ourselves like this: flexible, slender (and not skinny—back then, skinniness hadn't yet come into fashion).

And to see oneself in a halo of flowers and arabesques, surrounded by complex colorful ornaments and mosaic nimbi.

Mucha didn't just paint posters for Sarah Bernhardt; he was a universal master: he designed interiors, created sketches for jewelry, furniture, cutlery, and even packaging for cookies and soap, believing that art should be accessible to everyone.

Lefevre-Utile biscuits, 1897 calendar poster, color lithograph.

"JOB" (1896). An iconic advertisement for cigarette paper, where the girl’s hair forms the famous "arabesques" (the so-called "Mucha macaroni").

It’s precisely this side of his work that I like (I wanted to say "most of all," but, perhaps, just like). After all, how pleasant it is to buy soap, or baby food, or—higher yet—champagne in beautiful packaging. Sometimes the packaging is better than the product itself.

"La Trappestine" is a liqueur produced by Paris distillers Lagouey & Delbergue based on a recipe inspired by Trappist monks. Behind the figure of the woman, Mucha depicted a prominent halo decorated with circular motifs borrowed from the Maltese cross, which refers to the religious order and thereby hints at the divine origin of this drink.

This poster, developed for the PLM (Paris-Lyon-Méditerranée) railway company, advertised tourism on the main railway line connecting Paris and the French Riviera. To express their slogan: "A 16-hour journey on a luxury train from Paris to Monte Carlo," Mucha did not depict a traditional scene with bourgeois travelers. Instead, he hinted at the anticipation of a luxurious vacation through the image of a girl dreaming of the charms of Monte Carlo.

Mucha also created decorative panels, usually in cycles of four—like the seasons, or twelve—like the zodiac signs.

"The Moon and Stars," "The Pole Star," 1902, color lithograph.

"The Moon and Stars" is Mucha’s last series of decorative panels. Consisting of four panels depicting the Moon, the Evening Star, the Pole Star, and the Morning Star, this series reflects the philosophical theme of the mysteries of the universe and the harmony of nature.

These works were created not for advertising, but for decorating the interiors of ordinary citizens.

"Zodiac," 1896, color lithograph.

Mucha was particularly critical of the idea of "art for art's sake," which was becoming increasingly popular among avant-garde artists in late 19th-century Europe. Instead, he took on commercial projects, which allowed him to introduce artistic themes inherent in nature, as seen in his sketches for the Champenois calendar; these sketches were also converted into decorative panels for the home, like this sample.

The Arts: "Dance," 1898, color lithograph.

In 1896, Mucha used a circular composition in his posters and decorative panels dedicated to the four arts.

Later, this technique was named the "Q formula": a sitting figure is depicted in the center of the composition, surrounded by a circular motif, and the falling folds of her clothing form the letter "Q." "The Arts," 1898. A series of four works: Dance, Painting, Poetry, and Music.

Flowers: "Lily," 1897, color lithograph.

Mucha’s "Flowers" series of decorative panels includes four images of women symbolizing the rose, iris, carnation, and lily. The lily has long been known as a symbol of innocence and purity, which is expressed here in the image of a young woman dressed in white and looking toward the sky.

Reproductions of Mucha’s lithographs, if you want to buy them, seem brighter to me than the originals themselves. In general, the entire exhibition is characterized by "muted" tones.

Mucha’s works are colorful but not loud; you don't get tired of looking at them. In terms of tones, they are like the nature of Central Europe, only everything depicted is in excess and abundance, as if multiplied by the artist’s imagination.

Mucha is truly a master of lines; the title of the exhibition very accurately characterizes the artist. Also, the women, in a circular framing of ivy and Byzantine patterns, resemble stained glass windows.

The exhibition did not have the artist's largest canvases, so I’ll just tell you a little about them, and from there—Google them yourself.

Despite global success in Paris and the U.S., Mucha always remained a Czech patriot. He dedicated the second half of his life to creating a cycle of twenty colossal canvases, the "Slavic Epic," which he gifted to Prague.

The sponsor of this most ambitious project was American millionaire and Slavophile Charles Crane, whom the artist met in the U.S. It was thanks to his financial support that Mucha could leave commercial commissions behind and focus on the history of his people for eighteen years.

Returning to the Czech Republic, Mucha settled in the majestic Zbiroh Castle in Western Bohemia. There, he rented a huge hall with high ceilings, which he turned into a studio—only such dimensions allowed him to work on canvases six meters high and eight meters wide.

His life ended tragically: in March 1939, when the Nazis occupied Czechoslovakia, Alphonse Mucha was included on the list of "enemies of the people" because of his patriotism and Freemasonry. Despite his advanced age (he was 78), he was one of the first arrested by the Gestapo. He was subjected to harsh interrogations for many hours, as a result of which the artist caught a severe cold. He fell ill with pneumonia and passed away in July 1939, just a few weeks before the start of World War II.

The exhibition in Boca Raton surprised me with both the number of works and the selection of works by artists working in Mucha’s style, as well as the quality of the organization.

I was at the Mucha Museum in Prague in 2018. Мои впечатления были не лучшими. It seemed to me then that the museum's display was sparse, photography was prohibited in the museum, and the most memorable thing was a short film and a colorful souvenir shop that seemed richer than the museum itself. Only three or four photos remained from that entire visit. The internet says that in February 2025, a new permanent Mucha Museum opened in Prague in the historic Savarin Palace. "So if you want to see even more of the master’s works, including those not included in the traveling exhibition, they now have a stunning new home in the Czech Republic!"—advice from the same internet. Only you have to fly there... But this time we were lucky: the exhibition "flew" to my friend in Florida and we visited it!

Okay, jokes aside, now for real. The main "engine" of the exhibition in Boca Raton is the Mucha Foundation, based in Prague. It is managed by Alphonse Mucha’s direct descendants: his grandson John Mucha and great-grandson Marcus Mucha. They preserve the family collection and decide which cities in the world it will travel to. Bringing such an exhibition costs a huge amount of money (insurance of masterpieces, special climate-controlled transportation, security). The journey of these masterpieces across America is impressive: starting their path at the Phillips Collection in Washington, the exhibits crossed the country to Santa Fe, and after Boca Raton, they will head to Kansas City to conclude their tour with a triumphant showing in Mexico City.

The Mucha Foundation is very strict about selecting venues. The fact that they chose the Boca Raton Museum of Art as one of the few stops in the U.S. (along with Washington and Kansas City) is a great recognition of the museum's status. A small museum in a small city. It’s not just about the building in Mizner Park meeting the highest world standards of security and climate control. It’s about the fact that people live here who go to art exhibitions.

And remember the title of the cycle: "from Mucha to butterflies"? It occurred to me that Mucha (the artist) and butterflies are much more closely connected than I initially thought: the artist's paintings are just as colorful, just as ornamental, and just as delicate as the patterns on a butterfly’s wings... And just as indescribable as the emergence of a butterfly from a chrysalis, it’s unclear how paintings are born in an artist's imagination... (Well, here you go, you’ll reproach me again for being too highbrow.) That’s all for me for today; tomorrow I’ll have to write about another exhibition... but that will be tomorrow.

P.S.

1. In the museum, one of the halls was dedicated to works by other artists in whose work the influence (if not direct borrowing) of Mucha’s paintings is clearly visible.

When you walk through the hall and look at the paintings of others, you see more clearly the uniqueness of Alphonse Mucha's original works, the individuality and irreproducibility of his style. You understand (with all my sincere respect for other artists) that they are copies, while the real, authentic Art Nouveau was created at the beginning of the 20th century.

Interestingly, there are many works by Japanese artists.

Ryoko Yamagishi lives and works in Japan. Black Helene, Hana to Yume, journal, June 1979, digital print from the original drawing.

Yoshitaka Amano lives and works in Tokyo, Japan, and New York. Final Fantasy. Adventurer and the God of Storms. 2010. Digital print from the original drawing.

Yoshitaka Amano lives and works in Tokyo, Japan, and New York. "Two Princesses, Heroic Legend of Arslan," 1987. Digital print from the original drawing.

Barry Windsor-Smith, born in London, England, moved to and works in the United States, "Fire," 1979, color lithograph.

Bob Masse (artist) lives and works in Vancouver.

Bob Masse (artist) lives and works in Vancouver. Advertising poster depicting a fisherwoman for the group The Collectors, 1960, offset lithograph.

The Collectors (group). Vinyl record cover (cardboard sleeve), 1968.

Dean Torrance (Kittyhawk graphics), Los Angeles, Camarillo, California. A design depicting Mucha’s lily was used on the cover of the album Let the Sunshine In, released in 1969 by the American female vocal group Diana Ross and The Supremes. On the cover, Diana Ross is depicted in a white dress decorated with white lilies.

Akemi Matsunae lives and works in Japan. "Zodiac Girl," cover of Banquet magazine, September 1989.

2. I found photographs from 2018: The Alphonse Mucha Museum in Prague, where I photographed colorful posters decorating the museum windows. And I furtively managed to photograph a couple of drawings that struck me—rowan berries and "Angel’s Trumpet" flowers (lat. Brugmansia). I even planted this shrub in my garden later, but it didn't survive.

3. If you’re interested in the work, here are articles on the internet and material on YouTube.

* On YouTube, a showing of Alphonse Mucha’s works with musical accompaniment.

Alphonse Mucha : Painting, Illustration, Decorative art | collection (568 works)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2D3JReqPlVk

* Alphonse Mucha Wikipedia.

https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D0%9C%D1%83%D1%85%D0%B0,_%D0%90%D0%BB%D1%8C%D1%84%D0%BE%D0%BD%D1%81

* Biography "Know the Artist: Alphonse Mucha" (5 minutes, in English)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7eyn_-Cp59E

* Mucha Foundation.

https://www.muchafoundation.org/en/home

* Count and Countess de Hoernle

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Count_and_Countess_de_Hoernle

P.P.S.

Stories from the "Boca Raton" series.

1. A Journey to Paradise, or The Butterflies. Story One.

https://theglobalgrandma67.blogspot.com/2026/01/a-journey-to-paradise-or-butterflies.html

2. The Alligators, or A Journey to Paradise. Part Two.

https://theglobalgrandma67.blogspot.com/2026/01/the-alligators-or-journey-to-paradise.html

3. Sandy Beach, or The Crystal Dream of My Childhood. Story Three.

https://theglobalgrandma67.blogspot.com/2026/01/sandy-beach-or-crystal-dream-of-my.html

4. Boca Raton, or A Small Excursion into the History of a Small Town.

https://theglobalgrandma67.blogspot.com/2026/01/boca-raton-or-small-excursion-into.html

5. The City Under Red Tiles, or Sunset Strolls Through Boca Raton.

https://theglobalgrandma67.blogspot.com/2026/01/the-city-under-red-tiles-or-sunset.html

Wednesday, January 21, 2026

The City Under Red Tiles, or Sunset Strolls Through Boca Raton.

The City Under Red Tiles,

or

Sunset Strolls Through Boca Raton.

Addison Mizner’s ideal city actually turned out quite well. In many ways, it is exactly as he saw it, exactly as he planned.

"Mizner again?!" you might exclaim.

"We’re not reading this!!"

And you don’t have to.

Hooray! I practically don't have to write a story today either! I’m so exhausted from reading and the sheer abundance of information for the previous tale that I’m celebrating: today, the story isn't the center of attention—the pictures are! I’ll enjoy going through the photos myself and showing them to you. And I’ll fulfill the promise I made in the last story: I’ll show you the real Boca Raton, where and how people live. (Normal people, not celebrities. The middle class, as they say.) The photos you are already looking at were taken during two walks near my friend's house. We walked at sunset, admiring the sky, the clouds, and the reflection of the houses in the man-made ponds.So, let’s just take in the views and soothe our souls. You won't have to think about much of anything.

Boca Raton is a very well-maintained town on the southeast coast of Florida. Looking at the map now: it’s located between Fort Lauderdale, where we flew in and departed for our cruise, and West Palm Beach, where we went to the museum. We stayed with my friend for three days; you can't learn much about a city in such a short time.

What stood out most: the abundance of greenery. (Understandably, we flew from typically dry California to the tropics of Florida.) And the greenery is lush, a deep dark green. Palms grow everywhere, there are several species, and here they are a full-fledged part of the architecture.

Stately Royal Palms, resembling ancient columns, line the grand avenues, and near the houses, you often find Christmas Palms, which for our arrival were decorated not with clusters of bright red berries, but with Christmas lights.

It seems that even the trees here obey Mizner’s general plan: everything is so neat, trimmed, and "combed" that you feel like you're inside a flawless movie set.

Straight roads run through the whole city—excellent roads, always looking like new despite the constant downpours. But my friend complained that drivers in Florida are, how shall I put it mildly, less polite (I’m trying to avoid the term "a bit pushier") than in California (they’ll zip through an intersection on a red light without a second thought, change lanes at speed, or cut you off). I didn't notice it, but she knows better; she drives there and knows the difference.

The city is built in a unified style. I found out the reason for this after I returned home, as you might imagine, by reading the history of the development here, which I wrote about in the last story: Boca Raton is the brainchild of Addison Mizner. It’s interesting how his corporation went bankrupt and his life ended in poverty, yet the idea of creating an "ideal city" (as much as a real city can be ideal) came to fruition. Remember, I quoted his words: "My plan is to create a city that is direct and simple... To exclude all that is ugly, to eliminate the unnecessary, and to give Florida and the whole country a resort city as perfect as study and ideals can make it."

The city is famous for its Mediterranean-style architecture. That same Mediterranean Revival, established back in the 1920s: tiled roofs, light walls in very pleasant shades of gray, beige, or peach. All the houses look very similar to one another. Everything is very clean. It seemed to me that this uniformity adds to the sense of organization and tidiness.

My friend and her husband live in a large HOA community. It has all the classic Florida amenities: a beautiful clubhouse available for private events, tennis courts where we saw some kids playing as we walked by, and two large pools—one of them heated. We didn't actually go for a swim; we just admired them as we passed.

What is unusual for Californians are the screened-in porches, the so-called Florida Rooms.

(I cropped a bit from a photo and enlarged it so you can see better. This house has a huge porch enclosed with a metal screen!)

Without them, it’s impossible to be outside in the summer—the mosquitoes will eat you alive. By the way, I learned that these "rooms" appeared before the era of air conditioning as sleeping porches. Only behind a screen could people sleep peacefully in the tropical heat without fear of mosquitoes and other Florida wildlife.

(These porches here are substantial, under roofs, though more modest in size.)

No, without such rooms, I thought, you couldn't sit outside in the evening. Otherwise, a raccoon might suddenly disturb you at night (though they can show up in California too), or an opossum might drop by to see if you left any cat food outside. But that’s fine, minor things—what if an alligator wanders out for a stroll from the nearest lake?!

There it is, the lake, just two steps away... We saw two big gators, not in a zoo, but live... that was enough for me. (Not here, not here—we saw them in a city park, you've already read that!)

They say these porches are often called "lanais" (in the Hawaiian fashion) or simply "bird cages" if the screen also covers a swimming pool.

We visited during the winter and walked not very late; we didn't meet any opossums or raccoons, the mosquitoes didn't bother us much during our walks, and fortunately, it was alligator-free as well.

Throughout the community, besides the beautifully paved streets, there are pedestrian paths on both sides lined with Banyan trees.

Until I came here, I had never even heard of them. (Or maybe I had, but didn't pay attention). But the Banyan is a famous tree, very popular in Boca Raton and sacred in India. There are many legends associated with this tree in Asia.

It looks like a whole grove, but in reality, it can be just one tree! Its aerial roots descend and turn into new trunks. A true tree-forest, a tree-thicket.

Our first sunset in Boca Raton was truly stunning.

The sun setting over the horizon here seems as if it, too, was planned by architects—part of the overall picture.

But the second sunset was even more beautiful; judge for yourselves.

I ran out alone: I had to catch the reflections of the clouds in the lake water.

I’m running along the paths, taking photos—there are so many lakes.

At first (remember, I'm from "dry California"!), the thought flashed through my mind: "Fire ponds!" Then a second thought followed: "In a marshy area with this much rain, so many 'fire' ponds?!! It can't be!" Of course, it’s drainage.

I found an article about the drainage system in Florida (the article is huge, I confess, I just don't feel like reading the whole thing today). I'll summarize the part about the ponds in residential complexes.

Florida, compared to California, is a very flat state. The land level is low relative to the ocean, and there are frequent tropical downpours. When they build a residential complex, they level the ground, lay asphalt, and build houses. The water has nowhere to go. So engineers design and dig ponds so that during downpours or hurricanes, the water flows there instead of flooding houses and roads. These are controlled reservoirs.

Besides the water falling from the sky, there is also a high groundwater level. To build a house, the foundation needs to be raised higher. Builders dig a pond on the site of the future complex, and the excavated earth (sand and limestone) is used to create mounds for the foundations of the houses.

The result is "free" soil for construction and a beautiful lake in the center.

I found another reason I hadn't thought of. These ponds act as natural filters. Water flowing off the roads (with residues of gasoline, lawn fertilizers, etc.) goes into the pond. There, the sediment settles to the bottom, and plants and microorganisms clean the water before it goes deeper into the underground aquifers or the ocean.

While walking, I was captivated by the beauty of the sunsets and their reflections in the pond water. I thought how wonderful it would be to have a house on the shore of such a pond, to see the reflection of your house in the mirror of the water while walking, to see the sunrise or sunset every day from your windows instead of looking at a neighbor's fence.

(Though I look at the fence outside my window—and it’s fine!)

But now, that same thought has crept back: "Every lake is a home for wildlife. Alligators!" You definitely shouldn't swim here.

(I checked: it’s forbidden! And not just because of alligators, but also because of venomous snakes and the bacterium Naegleria fowleri: a "brain-eating" amoeba that lives in warm fresh water. If water gets into the nose, the consequences are almost always lethal.

Oh! And everything looks so idyllic in the photos! Sorry if I changed your mood. It might comfort you if I say that although it's almost always fatal, cases of infection are extremely rare.)

Anyway, we won't be swimming in the lakes, especially since the community has a pool. But you have to agree, it’s pleasant to sit on your "Florida porch" and look at the water reflecting the clouds...

I got carried away... It’s time to end the story. What did I forget, what did I miss?

Boca Raton is famous for its public schools. We visited during the holidays, but during the school year, children ride to school on scooters and bicycles. Independently. (Well, some are dropped off by parents.) I mention this because the city is also famous for its safety.

Safety and schools are not the only reasons for the city's popularity. There is also a purely pragmatic aspect—the absence of state income tax. (Residents only pay federal tax. In California, in addition to federal tax, there is also a state tax of 9.3%. So I pay the state about 10% of my income, while Florida residents are exempt from this.)

But if everything is clear with schools, safety, and taxes—those are pluses—are there any minuses here?

It seems Addison really did succeed in creating those "backdrops for happiness" that he dreamed of. Let’s not spoil the impression, only mention the Homeowners Association—HOA—which might ask you to weed the flowers in the grass in front of your house (which actually happened to our friends), paint the fence a different color, or trim tree branches or palm fronds.

Following Addison Mizner’s style is the law in Boca Raton. And HOAs in Florida are known for their strictness and pickiness. If you don't do it on time, you'll get a fine.

You’ll say there are hurricanes here. I agree. And in Texas, where my son lives, there are tornadoes. And in California, where I live, there are earthquakes and fires. I remember how a neighbor who survived the powerful 6.7 magnitude Northridge earthquake of 1994 (her husband pulled the children out to the parking lot, but she was trapped: the door jammed, her husband had to kick it in) recalled that all her dishes fell out of the cabinets and shattered, but she told me: "It’s okay, everyone is alive! We’ll buy new cups and plates."

If we stay alive, we’ll rebuild what was destroyed, wash what was dirtied, dry what was soaked—and "we will live on," a favorite phrase of one of my friends.

(Oh, the previous view was great, I'll repeat it in a different format.)

What does the city live for and how? It seemed to me that it's the most important thing: family. Everything here revolves around the family. Children, school, sports for the youth, going to "Mizner Park" on weekends, strolling through shops, sitting in a restaurant, visiting an exhibition at the museum, going to the ocean to relax... A measured, quiet family life. Conservative.

We visited before Christmas, and many houses were traditionally decorated for the holiday. I, of course, took photos of the ones I liked, and I liked many houses. So look at what you might like. On that note, I’ll say goodbye to you for today.

Taking this opportunity, I wish everyone a Happy New Year. It’s wonderful to live a daily life in a city where life flows slowly and predictably. I wish everyone predictability in life in the New Year, and if something new and unexpected suddenly appears, let it be joyful and bring happiness.

P.S. For myself. You can read it as well, it's educational, as I love to say. (Remember, I am a teacher.)

The abundance and variety of palms in Florida was striking. In Boca Raton, palms are planted either in groups or in rows. Identical palms in a row are very beautiful, though I don’t love them much. I remembered the tall, slender palms near the entrance to a gated community we drove past. I was struck by the color of the leaves: not green, but a gray-green-blue, with a silver tint. And the leaves were huge and fan-like. Those palms looked almost artificial. I regret not taking a photo. Now I decided to find out on the internet what kind of palm it was. I’m searching:

Royal Palm (Roystonea regia): The "aristocrat" of Boca Raton. Huge, perfectly smooth gray trunks that look like concrete columns, topped with a bright green smooth cylinder and lush feathery leaves. I saw many. They are usually planted at the grand entrances to expensive residential complexes and central avenues; these are the ones growing in Mizner Park. A status palm. But it’s not the one.
Coconut Palm (Cocos nucifera): A Florida classic. The very palms with elegantly curved trunks that we are used to seeing on postcards. We saw them growing near the beach. The photo on the cover of the story about going to the beach features this palm. But it’s not the one.
Foxtail Palm (Wodyetia bifurcata): They say it’s very popular. It has very fluffy leaves that truly resemble a fox's tail. It looks very neat and "expensive." But I didn't see any like that (or didn't notice).
Christmas Palm (Adonidia merrillii): Got its name because clusters of bright red fruits, like Christmas ornaments, ripen on it in winter. It’s small, so it’s often planted in groups of 2–3 right at the entrance to a house or by a pool. It’s in the pre-Christmas photos, but it’s not the one with the wide leaves.
Sabal Palm (Cabbage Palm): The official state tree of Florida. It looks a bit "wilder," with a rough trunk and fan-shaped leaves. Similar, but the leaf color isn't right.
Bismarck Palm (Bismarckia nobilis): Congratulations to me! This is exactly the palm that struck me so much. It’s impossible not to notice—it has huge fan leaves of an unusual silvery-blue color. And a great name, easy to remember.

Good thing I didn't have to look for long. I checked: twelve species of native palms grow in Florida. Boca Raton is a "paradise garden" for palms. Almost all of the 2,600 species existing in the world can grow here, except for the few that require mountain cold.

In reality, it’s hard to count, but the internet suggests that the total number of species that can be found in the gardens and on the streets of Boca Raton is in the hundreds. Thanks to the tropical climate, palms from all over the world thrive here: from Madagascar (Areca), Australia (Foxtail), the Canary Islands, and Southeast Asia (Coconut Palm).

And here is the article about drainage, just in case I want to read it... (this is for me, for me, not for

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Draining_and_development_of_the_Everglades