Gaynelle Goslin – West Palm Beach

Three inches – that’s how much the sea has risen since I moved into my Florida home 25 years
ago. 6 inches – That’s how much it has risen since the 1950’s. 8-10 inches – that’s the estimate
for how much the sea has risen in the 100 years since my house was built in 1926.

Three inches may not seem like much, but it’s enough to make a regular occurrence of the
phenomenon known as “sunny day flooding.” When I first moved to my historic neighborhood in
West Palm Beach, sunny day flooding only came when the King Tides of October overwhelmed
the storm drains, sending brackish intracoastal water onto Flagler drive. Now, it seems the
water spills onto the road with each full moon.

My house is 6 feet above sea level – 6.1 feet or 1.86 meters to be exact. Stucco over Dade Pine
built on what was likely scrub or coastal hammock. Sandy soil over a limestone sponge. It’s not
the just what comes overland, but what slowly seeps in un-noticed that really worries me. Every
east coast transplant from northern climes knows what salt can do to the undercarriage of a car.

What is it doing to the ground beneath our feet? And yet, the towers rise in a quest to create
“Wall Street South.” Each morning I hear constant noise of saws, hammers and pneumatic drills
as contractors knock down cottages and take every bit of earth they can to build giant zero lot
line “luxury” homes. What will happen when the salt water eats away at the bedrock? What will
run into the water as the newcomers inevitably try to create their idea of a lush tropical paradise
that is at odds with the scrub and coastal hammock that naturally grow here?
And yet, in my walks along the Intracoastal Waterway, I see reason to hope we can avoid our
self destruction. Three years ago, I came upon a group of middle school students at a park
around the corner from my house. They were on the other side of the sea wall, planting
mangroves. It is one of several new plantings in West Palm Beach over the past decade. As
the mangroves grow, they provide protection to the sea wall, filtration for the water, and shelter
for fish and waterfowl.

A few weeks ago, I came upon a snowy egret wading near the mangroves and the sea wall.
More than a century ago, these birds nearly went extinct because their fine white plumes were
prized for hats worn by the wives and daughters of the old robber barons. And, yet, because
enough people cared, snowy egrets are a species of “least concern.” Since West Palm Beach
and neighboring Lake Worth planted mangroves and created oyster reefs in the Lake Worth
lagoon, the water has become clearer. Clear enough to see an egret’s golden feet as she
walked along, stirring up small shellfish and crustaceans.. I remember a time when the water
was so murky and polluted that the mayor of Lake Worth was hospitalized after contracting an
infection while swimming across the lagoon during the annual “plunge against the grunge.” We
are making progress. I hope the new influx of fortune seekers doesn’t undo all of the gains we
have made.