Off to the North thunder was rumbling with the occasional lightning flash but where we stood, me staring bat then sky, Cheyenne with her nose in a bush, all we could feel was warm muggy air.
My street is single lane with salt ponds to the west and a line of homes and occasional empty lots to the west, lining the canal. There isn't much traffic before the retired wake up and go for their immutable strolls, but I do occasionally meet a cheery neighbor peddling hard. Linda is one who smiles a lot which makes her rather a change from the dour sad sacks who have retired to my street and seem unhappy with their fate.
The salt ponds are surreal in the early hours before the sun comes up. They are home to birds, mostly waders picking delicately through the shallows which apparently are home to fish and crabs even though they tend to dry out in the dry season.
It is a pleasant fifteen minute stroll to the end of the street and it allows me to relax after a night at work, I can read then paper as the sun comes up, I can watch Cheyenne being busy and I can listen to the silence.
This is the alternative to living in Old Town amid the noise and hustle and bustle. It is to my way of thinking more what Keys living is really about.
And then slowly the sun comes up, regular as habit.
And as my work day ends everyone else's begins. Except of course for the marching ranks of the retired who take over the street for an hour as I sleep and stride about looking unhappy. I wonder why?
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