Little Torch is just a couple of miles from my house (30 seconds by Bonneville) and i decided I could combine my after lunch dog walk with a bit of an explore. Cheyenne has been feeling the effects of sleeping in my car each night while I work and she was somewhat reluctant to leave the comfort of her bed but I think it was worth her while.
Leeward-South was definitely worth it for me.
The street is sort of paved with a hard surface overlaid by a sort of bitumen gravel, as though someone tried to asphalt it years ago and gave it up as a bad job. 
Usually these streets are mangrove alleys but here I found myself carried along by an incredible scent wafting across the street. It was all honeysuckle blossoms, everywhere, flourishing in the bright December sun.
It was quite lovely and totally unexpected.
I am not a botanist as I have made clear and I wouldn't trust my own judgment, but these fuzzy balls that smell so fragrant have been pointed out to me as a form of honeysuckle, but I've never seen an entire street lined with them. Cheyenne ignored the honeysuckle as much as she ignored a dead turkey buzzard, though I was quite surprised by her indifference to the deliciously ripe bird. She is a perfect dog.
Behind the honeysuckle screen it was mangroves, thatch palms and impenetrable scrub as usual.
The street runs straight to the west and opens into a little turn around with magnificent views across the red mangroves to the water. I know it's not the Sierra Nevada or the Mojave Desert but it has an air of solitude and wilderness that never fails to impress me even though the wilderness is frequently interrupted.
The channel was barely visible across the bushes and the sun beat down like an instrument of torture. Actually it was very pleasant yesterday afternoon, low sixties (17C), a light north breeze and crisp clear skies. What a perfect spot.
Perhaps what helped to make it perfect was the fact that the street is empty... 
...except for a dog, a few trees and that lovely deep blue sky.
Alas alack there was a sign of human habitation all the same.
Isn't it great, you feel like you are in the middle of nowhere and yet Waste Management will come by and do it's duty for this single solitary home splendidly ensconced on the end of this empty street.
Granted it's a dry lot (no canal access) but what a great spot, this is a home where men can be men and beer can be drunk to the accompaniment of loud music and there's no one to complain. That was actually what they were doing under the house as I walked by, doing the beer boats and music thing. "...and she said to me what are you going to do with all these boats? And I said to her I've only got four, and I've had to work hard to get them!" It was like he was answering the question floating right through my brain at that very moment.
As I strolled back towards the main road (State Road 4A) I spotted a white PVC pipe snaking off through the mangroves. Ooh I thought to myself, someone's growing dope in the mangroves! One is always ready to imagine the worst. Then I spotted the meter and guessed again. Why they run their official, legal water from here I don't know. 
We were closing in on the end of our walk when we came across Earl who thought Cheyenne was the bees knees and he sniffed enough to make her rear up and snap at him. I liked Earl, a big thick furred three year old who is owned by a man smart enough to agree that letting him off the leash would probably calm Earl down. Besides Earl had wrecked his extend-a-leash and they had to get resupplied with a fresh one to try to restrain the exuberant Earl for those occasions when he meets dogs less affable than Cheyenne.
We stood around and talked a bit, the usual laments about how the Keys have gone downhill. When I suggested things Up North had gone downhill further and faster he claimed his residence and I claimed mine and we sniffed around each other like two dogs. I first came down in 1981 on a motorcycle (I didn't tell him it was a 200cc Vespa)- so did he, and he had been here first so he could legitimately be the alpha dog. Just like the adorable Earl. 
I like the Keys even today, even though they have changed. To live this well, this peacefully, in the 21st century is a privilege we shouldn't take for granted. I don't.
Leeward-South was definitely worth it for me.
The street is sort of paved with a hard surface overlaid by a sort of bitumen gravel, as though someone tried to asphalt it years ago and gave it up as a bad job. 
Usually these streets are mangrove alleys but here I found myself carried along by an incredible scent wafting across the street. It was all honeysuckle blossoms, everywhere, flourishing in the bright December sun.It was quite lovely and totally unexpected.I am not a botanist as I have made clear and I wouldn't trust my own judgment, but these fuzzy balls that smell so fragrant have been pointed out to me as a form of honeysuckle, but I've never seen an entire street lined with them. Cheyenne ignored the honeysuckle as much as she ignored a dead turkey buzzard, though I was quite surprised by her indifference to the deliciously ripe bird. She is a perfect dog.
Behind the honeysuckle screen it was mangroves, thatch palms and impenetrable scrub as usual.The street runs straight to the west and opens into a little turn around with magnificent views across the red mangroves to the water. I know it's not the Sierra Nevada or the Mojave Desert but it has an air of solitude and wilderness that never fails to impress me even though the wilderness is frequently interrupted.
The channel was barely visible across the bushes and the sun beat down like an instrument of torture. Actually it was very pleasant yesterday afternoon, low sixties (17C), a light north breeze and crisp clear skies. What a perfect spot.
Perhaps what helped to make it perfect was the fact that the street is empty... ...except for a dog, a few trees and that lovely deep blue sky.
Alas alack there was a sign of human habitation all the same.Isn't it great, you feel like you are in the middle of nowhere and yet Waste Management will come by and do it's duty for this single solitary home splendidly ensconced on the end of this empty street.Granted it's a dry lot (no canal access) but what a great spot, this is a home where men can be men and beer can be drunk to the accompaniment of loud music and there's no one to complain. That was actually what they were doing under the house as I walked by, doing the beer boats and music thing. "...and she said to me what are you going to do with all these boats? And I said to her I've only got four, and I've had to work hard to get them!" It was like he was answering the question floating right through my brain at that very moment.
As I strolled back towards the main road (State Road 4A) I spotted a white PVC pipe snaking off through the mangroves. Ooh I thought to myself, someone's growing dope in the mangroves! One is always ready to imagine the worst. Then I spotted the meter and guessed again. Why they run their official, legal water from here I don't know. We were closing in on the end of our walk when we came across Earl who thought Cheyenne was the bees knees and he sniffed enough to make her rear up and snap at him. I liked Earl, a big thick furred three year old who is owned by a man smart enough to agree that letting him off the leash would probably calm Earl down. Besides Earl had wrecked his extend-a-leash and they had to get resupplied with a fresh one to try to restrain the exuberant Earl for those occasions when he meets dogs less affable than Cheyenne.
We stood around and talked a bit, the usual laments about how the Keys have gone downhill. When I suggested things Up North had gone downhill further and faster he claimed his residence and I claimed mine and we sniffed around each other like two dogs. I first came down in 1981 on a motorcycle (I didn't tell him it was a 200cc Vespa)- so did he, and he had been here first so he could legitimately be the alpha dog. Just like the adorable Earl. 
10 comments:
"To live this well, this peacefully, in the 21st century is a privilege we shouldn't take for granted. I don't."
Amen
Dear Sir:
Getting the dog to sleep in the car at night is a good first step for those preparing to deal with the harsh economic realities of 2010, when ones automobile is likely to be the primary residence.
And I like the way you neatly covered up the fact that your dog savaged a harmless turkey vulture, wringing the life out of it.
I do share your love of solitude, however. There is nothing like having a street, the woods, the water, or anyplace special to yourself -- for any length of time.
Cheyenne is a good looking, good natured dog, worthy of a plush automobile. I sincerely hope she gets a burger or something on your lunch break.
Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads
So, Jeffrey we're the lucky ones.
riepe: My wife would murder me if she thought I was feeding her dog junque food while she is snorkeling in the Bahamas. I am sure she going to count the rawhide strips when she gets back and find out I overdid it.
Crockscooter,
So glad you found a suitable canine keeper. She's gorgeous.
Has she shown any inclination to snack on footwear? One can hope.
D
Conchscooter,
Please don't take offense to this next sentence, as none is intended.
Sometimes I am not sure where the sarcasm ends in some of your posts and the face value begins (as there is little tone or subtly in textual communications).
However, I will take this at face value.
That said, I refuse to complain or listen to those that complain, but take no action. Deliberation is needed, but at some point, thought out action and follow through must be done.
As it all sounds like common sense wrapped up in a positive mantra - "I cannot complain", "That is good, because nobody would listen".
We can all bitch about change, but are we really aggravated by change or the perceived pain from that change?
So yes, I feel lucky and decided a long time ago to feel lucky given my lot in life. It worked wonders for my happiness with the glass 1/2 full (and some shitty things went down for me in the last 5 years).
Be well, and here is to a less negativity in the new year.
Jeffrey
Mr Conchscooter:
I have a special ability for sorting out your keying moods, whether sarcastic or not. "Birds of the same feather ..." must be your British upbringing with your ever so subtle hints, which I have no problems understanding.
Hurry up and purchase more rawhide strips making sure to leave an appropriate amount and hide the rest . No one will know except us and all those who read this.
It's like a box of chocolates. Take a few pieces and some will notice. Take the whole box and no one will even know it's missing.
Luv & xox's
Have a Happy New Year
bob
bobskoot: wet coast scootin
ps: I received an unsolicited package at work today. Thank you. Will think of you as I do further planning. Too bad you don't have socialized healthcare. I could go broke making the transition
I like Mr. Bobskoot's box of chocolate analogy. So often so true -:) Good luck with the rawhide ... if that's the worst you've got to worry about you're almost in heaven LOL!!
Mr Conchscooter:
who's the boss there anyway ? You mean to tell me that you have NO discretion at all to give away a few extra pieces of rawhide when the mood strikes ?
bob
bobskoot: wet coast scootin
I have no idea what half these comments are going on about. I have not used sarcasm in my blog for days, weeks maybe.
I understand dogs, people are impossible to understand.
Outside of a dog a book is a man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read. Just in case you had any doubts.
Christ. Tomorrow's post is a fluffy end of year essay with no reference to years in review, ten best lists and lists of things I hated most about 2009. God only knows what you ghouls will make of it.
I seek solace in the bottom of a can of Guiness.
Fair enough on the sarcasm, I am a little slow on the uptake sometimes. Thanks for the clarification and the great pictures and commentary.
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