A lovely moment wishing I could get my boat in the water. It's so bloody human isn't it. The moment was perfect, the heat not unbearable the water flat and smooth and there I was wishing for more...
Cheyenne doesn't care. She lives in the moment and judging by the difficulties of her early life it's a trick she has perfected.
I love summer in the Keys. The population thins out, bird watching grandparents are gone, spandexed active people are vacationing in Europe or running on the beach in Bali, instead of taking their winter exercise on these silent backroads. Besides it's not even that hot down here, maybe 93 with a fresh breeze while Kansas City is ...93. Hmm. So remind me again why people think its too hot here to send a summer by this tranquil ocean?
I know, there's more to summer than sunshine. There's rolling green fields studded with copses, hiking through dappled woodlands and cool summer mornings before the sun comes up at some ungodly hour, as happens in high latitudes. Down here it's mangroves and flatness.
We're off to North Carolina for a week soon so I'll get a sample of all that stuff of which I spoke. My sister in law said to me once that she couldn't believe she lived there one evening when we were standing on a ridge under Mount Mitchell watching the haze of a heated day turn to purple blackness in the valley below. I like Asheville but summer is too short and winters are long wet and cold.
Around here it doesn't change much, a bit warmer and a bit damper or a bit cooler and drier. Someone cut the little clump of mangroves in front of the launch ramp, managing to ruin their looks while not clearing what little they impeded. I used to worry about nature encroaching but these days I figure a nature has more right to encroach than we have to fight it off. if nature lease my house alone Ill do my best not to mess with nature's house.
It's the dog's way too. Cheyenne makes a great teacher. Even as she naps using Niles Road as a pillow.
What I have is enough. Indeed it's a banquet.
Our computer aided dispatch system at work has the name of every business in town listed in its search function. You call 911 and say you're in front of say, a convenience store and we know exactly where you re. Clever, huh? Of course you could just give the street and number or the intersection but for tourists in particular the feature is literally a life saver. It's common in emergency centers everywhere, of course. You could tell me you are at the ferry terminal, 100 Grinnell Street or the Buquebus (boo-kay-bus), which was the name of the Argentine company that first ran ferries to Fort Myers from here. The boat shown below takes people to the Dry Tortugas, but anyway...It's the ferry terminal.
The Steam Plant is now a bunch of unsellable luxury condos. They were offered initially for more than three million. They have six left according to the sign out front and one and a quarter million will get you one if you want. Plus taxes I guess if people like that bother with piddly details like the glue that keeps the community together.
I like this side of the harbor rather than sterile Sunset Key. Had I the millions I'd buy an apartment here rather than over there. Here it's lively, chaotic from time to time, messy and yet no longer toxic. Who says there is no progress?