I have been out here a few times but Cheyenne and I walked here together for the first time last week. A clump of houses set among the mangroves and backwaters of north Cudjoe (pro: Kud-joe) Key.
The cyclists were rushing north on Blimp Road without a solitary glance down the dirt road that is Spain Boulevard to their right.
That's okay, Cheyenne and I enjoy our companionable solitude. She shows little interest in other dogs, a quick sniff and she moves on. She showed little interest in the horse paddocks found in the middle of the housing subdivision out here.
I like the rural look of the area, the fields and fences put one in mind of places where agriculture actually exists.
A place unlike the Keys where farm tractors are only used to trim roadside mangroves or sweep up dead seaweed at the beach.
This sort of countryside is not ideal for planting crops or harvesting anything much except possibly fish. 
I would not like to live on a gravel street; I have suffered these kinds of roads in the past and all they end up doing, aside from looking picturesque, is throwing clouds of dust or mud depending on the season which requires incessant vehicle washing.
Horse turds on the other hand don't bother me much at all, though I am glad Cheyenne's output, though smellier, is a lot smaller than these fragrant heaps: 
There were no horses there that day but she seemed to be looking and wondering. 
A warning I think (" I feel entitled to drive badly as I am towing horses"), and probably not a command. Which is lucky as I had none to show. 
By local standards the lots are large and vegetation is rampant to secure privacy. One doesn't feel much like invading these yards with a camera and a dog and shouting: "Smile!"
I am very fond of mushrooms but these looked rather too appealing to be edible. Bright colors in Nature tend to indicate poison. 
And then we found them. Nothing more than very large dogs really. Cheyenne was not impressed.
They were much more interested in us than we in them and we marched on by, with not even a bark from my companion, on past more houses tucked away almost out of sight. 
This sign was explicit but looked odd somehow. It was stolen from someplace Up North, Chicago as I recall and transplanted down here. The message was clear enough but using a stolen sign somehow seemed to put it on a rather lower moral pedestal...We respected the spirit of the theft and walked on by. 
These is room for newcomers in this neighborhood. 
And this area includes examples of my favorite pine trees, shown here with a rather nice palm.
Some red flowers, which as they lacked any convenient label I couldn't hazard a guess as to what they are called. 
And at last we tramped back to Blimp Road and took our ease: 
A pocket park complete with, of all things, a bicycle rack. I wonder why bicycle thieves might be feared around here? 
You just can't beat the companionship of a good dog.
The cyclists were rushing north on Blimp Road without a solitary glance down the dirt road that is Spain Boulevard to their right.That's okay, Cheyenne and I enjoy our companionable solitude. She shows little interest in other dogs, a quick sniff and she moves on. She showed little interest in the horse paddocks found in the middle of the housing subdivision out here.I like the rural look of the area, the fields and fences put one in mind of places where agriculture actually exists.A place unlike the Keys where farm tractors are only used to trim roadside mangroves or sweep up dead seaweed at the beach.This sort of countryside is not ideal for planting crops or harvesting anything much except possibly fish. 
I would not like to live on a gravel street; I have suffered these kinds of roads in the past and all they end up doing, aside from looking picturesque, is throwing clouds of dust or mud depending on the season which requires incessant vehicle washing.Horse turds on the other hand don't bother me much at all, though I am glad Cheyenne's output, though smellier, is a lot smaller than these fragrant heaps: 
There were no horses there that day but she seemed to be looking and wondering. 
A warning I think (" I feel entitled to drive badly as I am towing horses"), and probably not a command. Which is lucky as I had none to show. 
By local standards the lots are large and vegetation is rampant to secure privacy. One doesn't feel much like invading these yards with a camera and a dog and shouting: "Smile!"
I am very fond of mushrooms but these looked rather too appealing to be edible. Bright colors in Nature tend to indicate poison. 
And then we found them. Nothing more than very large dogs really. Cheyenne was not impressed.
They were much more interested in us than we in them and we marched on by, with not even a bark from my companion, on past more houses tucked away almost out of sight. 
This sign was explicit but looked odd somehow. It was stolen from someplace Up North, Chicago as I recall and transplanted down here. The message was clear enough but using a stolen sign somehow seemed to put it on a rather lower moral pedestal...We respected the spirit of the theft and walked on by. 
These is room for newcomers in this neighborhood. 
And this area includes examples of my favorite pine trees, shown here with a rather nice palm.
Some red flowers, which as they lacked any convenient label I couldn't hazard a guess as to what they are called. 
And at last we tramped back to Blimp Road and took our ease: 
A pocket park complete with, of all things, a bicycle rack. I wonder why bicycle thieves might be feared around here? 
You just can't beat the companionship of a good dog.
10 comments:
Sorry, fat fingered the send, Ixora perhaps on the flowers?
It might well be. I nealry bought a house on Ixora on Big Pine Key before we settled on Ramrod and I have noi idea what one might look like. I have seena few ramrods in museums.
Dear Sir:
'Cudjoe..." Wasn't that the killer St. Bernard in the Stephen King story of the same name? And here that same dog is honored with a park in Key West. The terrain changes in the Keys are very interesing. They go from mangrove swamps to tropical hardwood stands in a few hundreds yards, apparently.
That kind of diverse setting is rare for small places, but a great thing for daily walks with dogs. Cheyenne is becoming your alter ego. Interesting for you, but rather dicey for me. A man's dog can never be the subject of a punchline — at least not to his face.
Did I ever tell you how much I hated the white mutt we have here? Her name is Scout and there never was a more disturbed dog to come out of a shelter. Leslie found her on death row in a shelter in Georgia, wherre she was slated for execution the next day.
That was then. This is now. She is a fiercely loyal member of the household, who thinks nothing of pinning strangers (like Dick Bregstein, my riding partner) to the wall, when they are found wandering around alone, looking for the bathroom. And at 100 pounds (with a slight pudge factor), this dog is capable of doing some damage.
She is not nearly as smart as Atticus, who applied for a job yesterday with the US Census. But she knows the difference between footsteps on the driveway and the spin cycle of the washing machine.
This is a trick Atticus (the wonder dog) has yet to master.
The horse in the 18th picture of this episode looks very intelligent... Which the species is not. I have been around enough of them to know that any animal that shits where it eats is only smart enough for Congress. The mad emperor Caligula (who is my inspiration for social skills) once made his horse a member of the Roman Senate.
There are a any number of lessons to be learned here. By the way, the healthcare summit has revealed that the legislature is loaded with horse's asses from both parties. (And the biggest horse's ass of all is playing the accordian with this piss poor piece of legislation, while Rome is smoldering.)
I am certainly coming to visit the Keys, and I can assure you it will be the most amazing motorcycle adventure I will have had in my career. It is going to produce an epic story. In all seriousness, it may give birth to a whole new approach to riding for me.
I don't honestly think I could live there though... (Luicky for you.) Only because of the heat in the summer, and the more confining aspects of the location. Yet nothing can be more confining than my present location, as the wind is hitting the house so hard (at the moment), it appears as if the white substance of each gust is rattling the windows.
The house is dark again today... Good for my writing. The outside temperarure is reading 20s-ish, and the outside temperature of the skylights is attracting the snow as if it was magnetic.
Have a pleasant day...
Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads
Feel free to give Cheyenne the benefit of your wit- she won't even know about it and it will take some of the pressure off me.
I can easily trade the heat of summer for what you are going through now. I have tonsilitis (WTF? This is my epic year for sickness) and I am home for a week verbally silent, slightly feverish, infectious (AGAIN) and glad I can step outside into a 60 degree yet sunny day. I would appear absurd to you wearing my fleece jacket and a feeble hat tottering around looking like a survivor from an epic polar adventure but there it is, I find it unbearably cold. Cousin Lyn has promised me a hand made wool cap. I hope she gets a move on as I am on penicillin and life saving rum is not allowed.My brain is freezing.
In regards to the keys going from mangroves to hardwood hammocks close to each other, I think the lower keys are even stranger than that.
I was talking to a geologist friend and he said that while the upper keys are coral, like the mainland, the lower keys are something called "oolites" (not sure on the spelling), but that geologist are not exactly sure what they are. I think I recall him saying something like they were small micro shell skeletons (like corals, but not in colonies). Anyway, oddities abound there from what I have seen.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oolite
Dear Conch:
I feel your pain. Why not hop a flight to Montreal and get your tonsils removed at a gas station? But don't go on a Tuesday... Tuesdays are gall bladder removal days in Canada.
I had my tonsils removed when I was eight.
I had by lungs removed by an attorney in the epic Riepe vs. Riepe case when I was 34.
I had my legs cut off at the knees in the second epic Riepe vs. Riepe case, by another attorney using a broken glass bottle when I was 43.
Stay away from attorneys. Either that, or when you say "I do," make sure you are answering the question, "Do you hate attorneys?"
Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads
Hat is in the mail!!! Feel better soon.
Cuz Lynn
Mr Conchscooter:
You would make a perfect back seat driver right now. I wish I could take a few days off but I rarely get sick. At least you won't have people hanging up on you if you can't speak proper USA
If you are finding it cold where you are, why don't you hop on a plane to West Chester, PA. After a few hours you will be begging to get back to a very toasty 50F American
bob
bobskoot: wet coast scootin
Thank you lyn.I'm gargling salt water. Yum.
Weird. I was going to do an essay on Miami oolite. I may still do.
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