The parched look of Bayview Park struck me like a slap in the face. It looks like Fall elsewhere, the dead leaves, the grass burned different shades of brown by a long hot summer. I know I am going to regret it, but I am starting to wonder if it will ever rain again.
For Cheyenne, in town for a favorite summer walks around interesting neighborhoods the heat is a matter of indifference, be it dry of rainy it oppresses her from now till November. Truman Avenue looked emptier than I have seen it for months. This is the Phony War before schools let out and families come to Key West for the long summer break originally designed to allow families to bring in the harvest. The harvest on this town in the summer is tourist dollars and they are much sought after in the slower months.
I once suggested to my wife that we accent our gray colored California house in black and I got the anticipated reply in the form of a look that told the world she was wondering if she'd married a moron. I quite like the black look: 
In Latin America they call it Jamaica with the jay sounding like an aspiration of breath. They make tea out of it, what the heathen call "tea" anyway, and it tastes good though it tastes nothing like any leaf that came off an Assam tea bush. In Key West we look at the colors and call it good.
We moved our car and our walk to Seminary Street and while Cheyenne poked around in the grass looking for good things to eat, poor malnourished dog, I looked up at the sky looking for the promise of rain.
"Looks like rain," said Winnie-The-Pooh.
For Cheyenne, in town for a favorite summer walks around interesting neighborhoods the heat is a matter of indifference, be it dry of rainy it oppresses her from now till November. Truman Avenue looked emptier than I have seen it for months. This is the Phony War before schools let out and families come to Key West for the long summer break originally designed to allow families to bring in the harvest. The harvest on this town in the summer is tourist dollars and they are much sought after in the slower months.
I once suggested to my wife that we accent our gray colored California house in black and I got the anticipated reply in the form of a look that told the world she was wondering if she'd married a moron. I quite like the black look: 
In Latin America they call it Jamaica with the jay sounding like an aspiration of breath. They make tea out of it, what the heathen call "tea" anyway, and it tastes good though it tastes nothing like any leaf that came off an Assam tea bush. In Key West we look at the colors and call it good. 
We moved our car and our walk to Seminary Street and while Cheyenne poked around in the grass looking for good things to eat, poor malnourished dog, I looked up at the sky looking for the promise of rain. 
"Looks like rain," said Winnie-The-Pooh."Like hell it does," said Eeyore.
I think the pessimistic Eeyore has it right.
3 comments:
You can have our rain! I've had quite enough, thank you very much. Our semi-arid climate has become Seattle by the Rockies and I am not liking it in the least! We haven't seen full on sun since Mother's day and I was about to divorce Colorado if it hadn't shaped up that weekend- since then nada. It's quite disgusting.
Things are parched here. Its dusty like California in summer and leafless like someplace else in winter.
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