Reflections

It has been brought to my attention that this is in fact Superbowl Sunday, a date that will live on in indifference in my life. I have the usual nauseous reactions to thinking about a nation of couch potatoes watching overpaid gladiators, who instead of trying to kill each other like gentlemen, earn their pay by running around chasing a pigskin. And to make it all worse spectating men talk about sports as an avoidance mechanism to slow the spread of conscious political thought. Imagine that, out of fear of causing offense (no, really) men will talk about Superbowls and avoid thinking about how to actually erase the Federal Budget Deficit. Well, I am not one of them, so instead I shall start out by talking about women's underwear.

I cannot, for the life of me, explain the flourishing growth in discarded women's underwear around the Lower Keys:Living with a dog that actively enjoys exploring absolutely positively everywhere, means that any side street, any path is fair game. Cheyenne is seen here snaking along a tiny little path that meanders close beneath Highway One, which runs at the top of the embankment:A little further on the trail came to the water's edge, which is pretty much the fate of all trails be they ever so short in the Keys. Land simply runs out and a weed-covered foreshore suddenly appears.A windy, bright winter's day brings white caps into the channels between the islands and also that wind seems to bring into sight a group of pelicans huddling in the wind on a sand bar. In the photo above you can see the whitecaps and the buffaloes running on the horizon which indicates an even windier day out in Big Spanish Channel. Overhead turkey vultures were soaring and looking graceful. Waiting for us to expire perhaps, or at least to become too weak to fight back.Cheyenne and I were laid out in the sun and shade reflecting on....the meaning of life, or the worth of a walk? The vultures swooped overhead as though checking our vital signs. Cheyenne stayed alert to fend them off: The sun pounded down on us as we rested from the effort of our brief stroll. It was a peaceful moment, close to Highway One, indicated by engine noises on the embankment above, but far from any other signs of human activity:It was a moment snatched from the promise of a busy week. Doing nothing very much at all. Me and my dog ignoring the world around us and drifting off into a doze.Sometimes it's necessary to be a human being and not a human doing.