In Tune With June

My plan for the morning: breeze south on U.S. 41, green lights all the way and no traffic; slide into a parking space smack across from the front door of Starbucks, slap my money down and walk out with a steaming cappuccino in 120 seconds flat; cruise west on Fifth Avenue South, hang a right onto Gulf Shore Boulevard, then left onto Fourth Avenue South, aiming straight at the Gulf of Mexico; choose one of the open parking slots at the foot of the wooden dune crossover; pass through the canopy of sea grapes like Lucy in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, to find myself totally alone on an endless stretch of white sand, untouched by footprints. For the next half-hour, share my existence only with a few dozen pelicans, each perched atop its own personal tide-eroded jetty.

It's one of the reasons I packed up my computer, my cameras and my babies these many years ago and moved to Naples.

OK, back up. Naples, Florida? No traffic? Parking on Fifth without circling the block? No waiting? Beach parking? Puh-leez.

You bet, and there's more. Later I'll cruise the 80-percent-off sales at boutiques with names that cause my accountant to hyperventilate, and I might just slip into one of my new confections for dinner or the theater, excellent seats available. No, we haven't accidentally slipped into the subtropical version of Narnia. It's simply a phenomenon in Southwest Florida we call June.

More than any other month, June belongs to the locals. The last of the snowbirds are back up in the North, digging in their gardens and packing away their storm doors or whatever it is snowbirds do when they're not here. I swear the traffic light fairies sprinkle magic dust on the timers, and there's a lot more green than red. And we locals start practicing some of our secret rituals reserved for summertime only. Like going out for lunch on Friday and forgetting to come back. Like sailing all afternoon and not getting close enough to another boat to make eye contact.

June launches a concert series that our winter friends know nothing about. Once a month, all summer for the past 20 years, the locals have been gathering at dusk on the lush beachfront lawn at the Naples Beach Hotel & Golf Club to watch the stars come out-literally and figuratively-for SummerJazz

on the Gulf. Some of us go just to run into the friends we haven't seen all year.

Speaking of jazz, June is when we finally can score a seat at The Café on Fifth to bathe in the sensuous sounds of jazz jams from around 5 to 8 p.m. Fridays and Sundays. Don't even ask why they call it Saturday Night Jazz. They don't know. There's more nighttime jazz over at Pop's at Bayfront Place. Remember that it's summertime and schedules are also, shall we say, relaxed.

If you're a fisherman and snook is your one true love, the month of June and the Gulf Coast backwaters are a match made in heaven. Anglers can glide along the mangroves near low tide-especially around full-moon time-for a huge adrenaline rush when they spot the giant prize snook that congregate en masse for spawning season. Catch and release only, of course-summer is closed season on snook. By the way, the real locals-the ones whose parents were born here-know that "snook" rhymes with "duke," not "book." Nevertheless.

By the time father's day rolls in we're so drunk on laid back that Cheap Aftershave Day at the zoo (or something to that effect) seems normal. Apparently highly credentialed animal psychologists have determined that Indochinese tigers and African leopards need more than big chunks of raw meat for their physical well-being. They also crave sensory stimulation in the form of bottled fragrance for emotional balance. So in the interest of animal mental health, the Naples Zoo at Caribbean Gardens lets Dad in free each Father's Day weekend in exchange for that lovingly wrapped but really stinky bottle of Eau de Hombre Machismo that was served up with cold eggs and a big wet Father's Day kiss. My Daddy, bless his sweet heart, claimed he loved that Old Spice he got every single year until the last one was out of the nest. But I don't know-he may have been anointing the dog with it.

Not to penalize those dads who scored a really good aftershave, the zoo will happily take girly stuff instead. According to zookeeper Tarah Brinkerhoff, the African wild dogs are partial to Mary Kay's Angel Fire, and Calvin Klein's Obsession drives the tigers positively wild (uh, what were they before?). Which begs the question: What does legendary animal man and handsome zoo director David Tetzlaff, who's known to have uncanny communication skills with all species of wild ones, slap on his own face after a shave? Answer: Eternity for Men. Use this information as you will.

And here's a tip you can use: If you're planning an African safari this summer, be safe and pack a bottle of Brut. The lions won't come near the stuff.

Till next time, savor the moment.