It occurred to me on a road trip that I am lucky to have space to be alone, and who would have thought I'd find that space in the Keys?
I suppose the solitude is a product of the lack of social value in the places I walk. These are no kind of shady forest glen, obviously I am alone far from beaches and bikinis.
I think many people fear the mangroves and the ghastly reptiles they harbor and all the poisonous snakes and ravenous crocodiles and spiders the size of your fist. We mustn't forget the human element where contrary to real life the imagination fills the woods with sex traffickers rapists and robbers.
Or me, lumbering around with camera and dog dressed in rubber shoes to cope with high tides and flooding.
For me the mangroves paint pictures, always varying with the light and the weather, always the same for want of topographical features.
You could walk for hours here and the scenery won't change much. Hammocks of high ground produce taller trees but not by much. A pile of rubble produced by digging anti- mosquito gambusia trenches allows a short person to see over the mangroves slightly: they don't vary.
I came across a death struggle- bird versus caterpillar and the hungry bully won. It's what happens while you aren't looking, lives get destroyed and you travel on none the wiser.
I drive home after work and lives were changed in the preceding twelve hours, hospitalization, arrest, death, from the banal to the awful and no one around me knows or notices or cares.
I watched the worm curl up in an attempt to defend itself from the beak but the bird was having none of it. Hairy caterpillar was on the menu. I was God and declined to intervene so I suppose the caterpillar had cause to deny me my majesty.I took a photograph instead of a puddle with a reflection. Life goes on.