Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Christmas Prezzie

Do you suppose the recipient of this gift will fail to notice it when they get home after a long day at work?

There are quite a few days left till Christmas and I would be surprised if the lucky recipient didn't twig to the presence of a large parcel on the back of the car before the great day.

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Black Spot

I was struck by the irony of this sign at the edge of the Overseas Highway just about where I got into close contact with a blimp what didn't notice me on my motorbike.

Yes, it gave me pause and my hat's off to this victim of who knows what mayhem at this spot.

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Red Mangroves

Because my dog takes her time when out walking I end up with time on my hands and I get to thinking and that leads me into odd places. It was on one such morning that I saw a field of mangrove pneumatophores that caught my imagination.

Around here red mangroves are two a penny, and after decades of being viewed as useless impedimenta to progress they have regained stature as critical components to the nearshore lifecycle.

Mangroves grow in salt water which is pretty strange to start with. They grow out of the muck and silt laced with poisonous salt and they thrive.

Mangroves suck up salt water, filter out the salt and stack it in selected leaves which promptly turn yellow and drop off, taking the salt poison with them.

They reproduce by growing cigar shaped seed pods called propagules which grow, mature and drop off in sure and certain hope of landing in salt water and floating off to create a new bush somewhere else.

There he goes, the little dear, seeking new horizons and a fresh start.

Floating off like a little submarine filled with new mangrove life.

If the propagules land on hard land they dry out turn brown, and die without a chance at creating new life.

Eventually they sprout roots, turn vertical and dig in. And when they do they sprout in mud among rocks and anywhere they can get a grip. Then they create shade and protection for small fish and crustaceans and hold the shoreline together. They are in a word: brilliant.

It used to be they were considered unfit for man nor beast in that they don't burn well, they don't grow straight and true and were thus useless for building and they grow on water so they aren't an indicator land is at hand. Walking among mangroves is in fact impossible for ordinary mortals (and their dogs).

Fish love them and thus sportsmen who know their sport love them. Mangroves also do a better job at no cost of maintaining canals than seawalls. In it's infinite wisdom the state of Florida eventually gave them protected status. And think about this: these are just the red variety, there are black and white and their cousin the buttonwood. South Florida is mangrove heaven.

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Duval At Eaton

Standing in the intersection I could look across the street at a favored spot for the residentially challenged on Duval. Sit and watch, all day long.

The ice cream looked a like a thunderbolt poised to zap the poor dude.

St Paul's across the street has been undergoing renovation which requires creative camera work to hide the flapping plastic sacking and scaffolding.

Ad underfoot chickens chasing pizza rinds.

Post apocalyptic scavenging. Just another day in old Key West.

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Duval And Greene

Tourists on scooters and sidewalks underneath the sign that marks the epicenter of Key West to most people.

The dark clouds of an impending storm offset the pastels of the buildings quite nicely.

It was an evening that turned into light rain wind and thus appropriate for indoor entertainment.

Years ago it used to be that every breeze would knock out power somewhere but these days Keys Energy (pace City Electric) keeps the juice flowing magically in almost all conditions. They keep their boxes well labelled rather like the fusebox in the hall at my home.

Overwhelming choice in non-Cuban cigars, was my caption for the picture below. I don't smoke but I do enjoy how the Embargo requires cigar sellers to label their most desirable products as "almost Cuban." Grown from Cuban seed is my favorite as though Dominican grown is good enough.

The mysterious Porter Mansion which houses the only drinking hole worthy of the name on Lower Duval: the Porch, home to draft Belgian Palm beer.

It must be my fevered imagination but these ticket booths seem to be popping up everywhere like mushrooms after a rain shower. Business looked slack.

Among others one of my great disappointments is that I don't like to wear a hat. I like admiring them, but on my head they itch and I have to keep moving them around.

I meant to take a picture of an early budding Christmas Tree in the spirit of the true meaning of Christmas in a world dominated by commerce. In a rather nice piece of symbolism I accidentally managed to get a reflection of St Paul's rendering the shop window in half.

The emotional tug of war between Key West as home and Key West as source of income never ends.

It is decidedly unfortunate that I'm frequently pleased to see Lower Duval not filled with frantic shoppers and drinkers. I think I am missing the summer doldrums already. Oh dear.

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