Friday, November 13, 2015

Streaks of Light

Many years ago a woman I lived with in Florida remarked to me that in winter the texture of the light changes in South Florida. And she was right and I have not forgotten. It does. 
 I suppose the bald fact of the matter is obvious, as the sun falls lower and lower in its arc across the sky the angle at which the sun's rays strike also changes and the sun is no longer directly overhead. The Tropic of Capricorn is only sixty miles south of here so in June the sun is almost directly overhead which makes for a hot drenched sensation to the light. By now the sun is sensibly much closer to the southern horizon and mornings are arriving earlier and with angled light at a time when I can still be awake if Cheyenne needs a walk.
Above the temple of the spirit, the Minor Basilica of St Mary Star of the Sea and below the other kind of temple, Old Town Fitness. The sun shines equally on both. I love the texture of the non native coconut palms and the shiny quality they get from the sun. They wave all day around my house and though they are a pain with huge numbers of fronds falling off all the time, and dropping coconuts, which do taste good,  I know exactly why tyey are seen everywhere in the Keys. They look lovely.
Bright white winter sunshine makes the most banal apartment complex  glow.  There is a freshness in the early morning air that elsewhere might hint at autumn, but around here with no signs of  yellowing leaves or frost or anything, it looks more like a developing spring day.
Cheyenne is learning to appreciate the coolness of the winter mornings and she seems to be more inclined to be awake when I get home from a night at work. The fact that I arrive home around 6:30 in full daylight also helps her wake up, I think.
I rarely walk with money in my pocket. I carry plastic bags and my iPhone, but if I carried money I'd end up with a huge cup of con leche and a cholesterol sandwich from Sandy's...Cuban coffee and eggy bacon Cuban bread are irresistible to me.
Tell me this cottage with the royal palms, with the shadows, with Virginia Street disappearing into the distance... this is Key West as we want to imagine it will be in a hundred years even if the ocean rises three feet in the interim. 
All this head-in-air looking at shadows and sun beams was provoked by the ride into town at seven in the morning and those big empty thunderheads in the sky.