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.