Indies Road looking north from in front of my house. It looks like summer but those clouds just won't yield a decent downpour.
The salt ponds that comprise the southwest corner of Ramrod Key are drying up slowly as they do at the end of the dry season, which is winter. When the rains return the mud will be covered to the depth of a foot or two and some intrepid visitors in kayaks will explore the limits of the waters. Others go crabbing and toss pots out into the mud.
The salt ponds make a nice view but they aren't much to walk on so Cheyenne and I jump in the infernal combustion machine and drive to the north side of the island from time to time. During our dawn walks I have heard a sound that reminds me of peacocks I used to hear in my youth, a sort of shriek that dies to a strangled squawk, that once heard is never forgotten. I guess I am not hearing things after a long night at work.
The island, as small as it is, is covered with small businesses, everything from welding to car repair, to boat tours, a motel and storage lockers. You name it Ramrod Key caters to it. Happily not all development came to fruition so there are numbers of almost empty planned streets where a Labrador can take her ease uninterrupted by much traffic flow.
I kept looking up at the sky but the clouds just looked threatening.
Sooner or later rains will come and with them mosquitoes and flourishing trees and hot sticky afternoons.
The salt ponds that comprise the southwest corner of Ramrod Key are drying up slowly as they do at the end of the dry season, which is winter. When the rains return the mud will be covered to the depth of a foot or two and some intrepid visitors in kayaks will explore the limits of the waters. Others go crabbing and toss pots out into the mud. 
The salt ponds make a nice view but they aren't much to walk on so Cheyenne and I jump in the infernal combustion machine and drive to the north side of the island from time to time. During our dawn walks I have heard a sound that reminds me of peacocks I used to hear in my youth, a sort of shriek that dies to a strangled squawk, that once heard is never forgotten. I guess I am not hearing things after a long night at work. 
The island, as small as it is, is covered with small businesses, everything from welding to car repair, to boat tours, a motel and storage lockers. You name it Ramrod Key caters to it. Happily not all development came to fruition so there are numbers of almost empty planned streets where a Labrador can take her ease uninterrupted by much traffic flow. 
I kept looking up at the sky but the clouds just looked threatening. 
Sooner or later rains will come and with them mosquitoes and flourishing trees and hot sticky afternoons.
1 comment:
Abbreviated Comment for New Format:
1) Glad the birds are returning to Ramrod Key...
Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads
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