Friday, September 19, 2014




Every year I forget.

Bloody stupid really.


This year I almost remembered.

Woof like a pirate. If you must.


September With No Name

People like to whinge about the summer heat in Florida, but given that September is the peak of hurricane season and so far - nothing; there's really not a lot to whinge about. Furthermore a few tropical depressions have swung by the neighborhood dropping tons of rain everywhere, which is what California could use, and that rain has cooled things off nicely. So much so I got Cheyenne out into the woods earlier this week.
It is hard for me to stress how pleasant it is o be in the Keys in September, despite the prolonged summer heat  (which I like), because this is the time of year one  gets away from it all. This is the time of year No One is Hiking or Cycling on No Name Key.
No Name Key is where you bring people who want to see Key Deer. They inhabit these forests, picking their delicate way through the undergrowth and from time to time they pop out onto the roadway so you don't even have to get out of the car to get a picture.
I like getting out of the car and recommend similar eccentric behavior to anyone who wants to enjoy the spectacular views that present themselves along the Overseas Highway. Get out of our cage, look around, you never know what you might see.
Considering how limited the landmass is around here, to have the ability to get on a trail and drag your reluctant Labrador away from civilization and its messy trash cans, is a wonderful ting.
I usually get to do more of it in winter but the past two winters we haven't seen many days with temperatures under seventy degrees.  
These woods are well known as he place where the Bay of Pigs landing in Cuba, in prehistoric times, was planned and where the anti-Castro insurgents/ terrorists/freedom fighters (take your pick) trained.
Of them there is no sign anymore. Nowadays there is, more incongruously a gravel quarry, a deer refuge and  commercial electric power.
There are no hills so the views are naturally restricted. Around here you don't see rivers and valleys, hedgerows and farmland.
 It's just miles of mangroves sitting in tannic water stained as dark as tea.
 Sometimes Labradors like to cool their heels in the high tide of summer storms.
 With more to come, looking west toward Big Pine Key.
 So dogs like to repair to their air conditioned comfort and the darkness of a rug over their faces.
Cheyenne doesn't notice thunder and sleeps serenely through any noise at all as long as her forehead is pressed up against something and no one has the temerity to touch her. She dreams of long urban walks, and the noise and smells of the city, dreams that cannot be ignored, even by someone who might prefer a wood to a parking lot, or a trail to a street. Dogs are stubborn things and they know what they like. More's the pity people don't pay attention to them when they indicate their preferences.