In between wild and windy days there are still some quiet, windless mornings when the sea is flat as a pancake and as still.
A while back I took Cheyenne to the north shore of West Summerland Key and started taking a few pictures on a whim, while she rooted around.
I was enjoying some time alone here, on a morning when rain threatened possibly keeping anglers away.
The last time I came here the parking lot was packed with cars and people with fishing poles.
West Summerland Key is an oddly named island, far to the east of the better known island called simply Summerland Key, which is where my post office resides at Mile Marker 26.
No one knows why it is called
West Summerland, but it is between Big Pine Key (seen on the horizon, above) and Bahia Honda.
I just wanted to take a few pictures of the water and not think about anything too much. Cheyenne apparently felt the same way.
The rock formations here have been eaten away by the tides.
The bridge connecting West Summerland to Big Pine is masked by the old Flagler railroad bridge when seen from the north.
This little green cigar is a new red mangrove first taking root among the rocks.
The natural causeway to nowhere. I had my newspaper and unable to resist the siren call of the day's headline I wandered out to the point, found a smooth rock and started to read.
All was still.
The sun kept making an effort to rise over the horizon and break through the clouds.
I sat out at the far tip of my little peninsula and read the paper. It was most relaxing with my dog sitting at my side.
The birds didn't mind us.
The bridge to Bahia Honda, in sepia tinted early morning light.
Looking back at my seat among the rocks. I was too lazy this day to take a self portrait of me reading the paper.
This was not a day meant for a lot of effort. I got into the spirit of the thing and we slowly ambled back to the car.
In between wild and windy days there are still some quiet, windless mornings when the sea is flat as a pancake and as still.
The last time I came here the parking lot was packed with cars and people with fishing poles.
No one knows why it is called West Summerland, but it is between Big Pine Key (seen on the horizon, above) and Bahia Honda.
The rock formations here have been eaten away by the tides. 
The bridge connecting West Summerland to Big Pine is masked by the old Flagler railroad bridge when seen from the north. 
This little green cigar is a new red mangrove first taking root among the rocks. 
The natural causeway to nowhere. I had my newspaper and unable to resist the siren call of the day's headline I wandered out to the point, found a smooth rock and started to read.
All was still. 
The sun kept making an effort to rise over the horizon and break through the clouds. 
I sat out at the far tip of my little peninsula and read the paper. It was most relaxing with my dog sitting at my side. 
The birds didn't mind us. 
The bridge to Bahia Honda, in sepia tinted early morning light. 
Looking back at my seat among the rocks. I was too lazy this day to take a self portrait of me reading the paper.
This was not a day meant for a lot of effort. I got into the spirit of the thing and we slowly ambled back to the car.
3 comments:
The mangrove seed reminded me of an experience I had at Lovers Key.
We were swimming about 30 feet off the sand (and you still could stand with your head above water). There was a mangrove seed floating near by. As I looked at it, I noticed something on it. Wrapped around it with its tail was a sea horse. As I picked it out of the water the seahorse dropped back into the water. I place the seed back in the sea and the little guy swam back to it and coiled around it again. We did this two more times and I decided I should leave the little guy alone and be on his way.
Cool experience.
Dear Conchscooter (Michael):
I am still amazed that you do not to fish. With all that beautiful open water around, I'd be fishing two or three times a week. And there is always the chance you'd catch something really good, cutting down on the dining expenses too.
Your reply to my blog today has given me a devlish idea for a trip to Key West, in the company of some truly refined gentlemen. I will have to have a major reversal of fortune, considering my present circumstances, but I do well with the long shots.
Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads
That's a gorgeous photoessay, proof being that it evoked a very sweet comment from Jeffrey.
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