A friend of mine said my pictures make Florida look prehistoric, a reminder than in some ways this most maligned state, most badly developed state still has kept in touch with its prehistory. I suppose so. The thing I like about the back country in the Keys is that it reminds me of walking in the desert, a place of not much life and a great deal of wind whistling in your ears as your feet crunch through the soil. Around here the "desert" if green and often moist, populated by birds and insects and not often silent as the cars on Highway One are never more than a few miles distant.
And yet I find that prehistoric look everywhere, bleached tree limbs reaching up to the sky in supplication...I wander off the trail, frequently finding my feet mired in clay and muck, my dog happily splashing unseen between the bright green bushes occasionally flashing his tail like a brown pennant above the mangroves, marking his passage.
In the middle of prehistoric mangroves I spotted the old Niles wooden bridge to nowhere blown away by Hurricane Irma.
And now all I can say is it looks forlorn, washed up and even more useless than when it joined two empty mangrove patches.
The views across the waters between the islands are like this, with odd human made structures appearing through the heat haze. I often wish for elevation in this flat low lying islands. Standing on a tree stump or a small mound of gravel gives you immense perspective. Relatively speaking.
There he is, happy as a clam waiting for me to decide our next direction. I whistle and he comes running, then he waits. I feel bad for all those dogs I see outside the trailer park near my home trudging the same stretch of roadside every day in the same way at the same time. At least they are getting walked but Rusty I try to actively stimulate with variety and open spaces to run across.
Exploring is in his nature, wherever we go his nose is down and he is intent. He doesn't like the same walk two days in a row usually so I take him by car on a circuit of nearby trails. They look pretty much the same to me but they don't smell the same to him.
And then a Florida sunrise. No wonder other states malign Florida; all they see is orange juice and condos and weird lurid tabloid news.
I see this:
Thank you Rusty.