An early start to the morning, leaving the house to chase a sunrise which as the Florida Blogger has noted tends to be more interesting than sunset. This was Big Pine under a bilious yellow sky.
This was the causeway between Big Pine and West Summerland, I was enjoying the wispy clouds blowing across the sky.
Looking southeast past the Boy Scout camp I could see the early morning sun trying to break through.
And the old Bahia Honda Bridge was it's usual magnificent self. The air was warm and damp, like the precursor to a cold front.
Cheyenne leaped out of the car ready to sniff around and I stood looking at the clouds sinking to sea level and blowing over the bridge.
Mostly around here the air and water temperatures are stable and stuff that resembles fog is a rarity, nit unknown but it doesn't show up that often. Mostly the seascape looks like this:
But the heavy damp air was threatening to engulf us in moisture. My newspaper started to get spontaneously wet.
There is a small spoil island, dirt dug up to allow the bridge foundations to be planted a hundred years ago, and the island lies just south of the Bahia Honda State park. It looked extra lonely with it's little mangrove bush in the middle of the smokey waters.
The bridge was getting swallowed by the nightmare fog. 
The only spot of color I could see was this Department of Transportation trash can, and the purple flowers behind it. Everything else seemed gray and drab by comparison.
And there was the sun struggling to break through.
Cheyenne was ignoring my metaphysical contemplation of the grayness of the universe.
It was a glorious gray strange otherworldly day. I was entranced as usual by the variety of the sameness of every new day in the Florida Keys.
For all that the Keys look the same and lack features, every day I live here i find new and different things to look at.
It's all just too fabulous.
This was the causeway between Big Pine and West Summerland, I was enjoying the wispy clouds blowing across the sky.Looking southeast past the Boy Scout camp I could see the early morning sun trying to break through.
And the old Bahia Honda Bridge was it's usual magnificent self. The air was warm and damp, like the precursor to a cold front.Cheyenne leaped out of the car ready to sniff around and I stood looking at the clouds sinking to sea level and blowing over the bridge.Mostly around here the air and water temperatures are stable and stuff that resembles fog is a rarity, nit unknown but it doesn't show up that often. Mostly the seascape looks like this:But the heavy damp air was threatening to engulf us in moisture. My newspaper started to get spontaneously wet.There is a small spoil island, dirt dug up to allow the bridge foundations to be planted a hundred years ago, and the island lies just south of the Bahia Honda State park. It looked extra lonely with it's little mangrove bush in the middle of the smokey waters. 
The bridge was getting swallowed by the nightmare fog. 
The only spot of color I could see was this Department of Transportation trash can, and the purple flowers behind it. Everything else seemed gray and drab by comparison.And there was the sun struggling to break through.
Cheyenne was ignoring my metaphysical contemplation of the grayness of the universe. 
It was a glorious gray strange otherworldly day. I was entranced as usual by the variety of the sameness of every new day in the Florida Keys.
For all that the Keys look the same and lack features, every day I live here i find new and different things to look at.
It's all just too fabulous. 
8 comments:
Dear Conchscooter:
Things have taken a dark and dirty turn when the only spot of color in your life is the Department of Transportation trash can. Now what would you do if the strange mist coming off the water was radioactive and it made Cheyenne grow to 15 feet tall? Or what if you were transported to the small spoil island, and there was a community that appeared on it for one day, every hundred years, like Brigadoon?
Think about this stuff. It could happen.
Fondest regards.
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads
Someone just got done watching Matinee...
I've taken to riding out to the curve on S. Roosevelt in the morning; there's a breakwater and fill rock which is lower than the roadway - the breakwater is wide enough to walk out and sit upon. From there it's possible to watch the sun come up - and the sunrises are every bit as varied and sublime as the sunsets - with the added bonus of being completely free of lubricated loonies egging on the Cat Man.
Florida mountains.
Smoke on the water
and fire in the sky
-Deep Purple.
I still have to buzz the Quebecois on S. Roosevelt with open megaphones; I've not gotten around to pulling the baffles.
I dunno when CS takes these pix - I never see him. Perhaps he's a shape in the mist...
Midnight on Fleming,
Chuck.
I try to be. I am free for a ride thurs or fri.
The Fabulous Florida Keys
And I thought this post would end up with a reference to the rock group "Deep Purple". Silly me. I did like the pictures though.
Dogs seem to always have their own "stuff" to be interested in.
Oh men of a Certain Age... I saw Joan Baez at Montreux once. Does that count?
Previously it was about cemeteries, now fog. Where are you going with this? You are not depressed are you? Please post some sunny pictures with turquoise waters soon.
That would be the next entry...we are here to serve and obey!
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