A hot summer afternoon in April in New Town. I was much cheered by a call from a friend in Santa Cruz California a couple of days ago. The weather report? 45 degrees, rain, "it looks like winter." Cheyenne and I were huddling under the inadequate cover of a tree before venturing out under the sun on Eagle Avenue.
The house is shut up, the car is for sale. Hmm, a possible replacement for my oil burning kennel.
An occupied house, a car not for sale.
New town used to be open fields and there was a dairy around here in the days before Key West spread past Division Street, now known as Truman Avenue. Division used to divide the inhabited part of the island from the open space. Open, no longer. 
For Conchs of the day New Town development represented an opportunity to sell their tumbledown homes for ridiculous sums and build proper American homes on decent sized lots in what used to be fields.
Off sets are are a good deal wider than in Old Town.
It's starting to get hot if you happen to wear a fur coat out in public. 
But not so hot that one loses all interest in the outside world.
A delightful tree house in a very large ficus (baobab). (see comment below...)
Classic ranchette style, car port, open landscape, lots of off street parking, no tourists. People who visit and inhabit only Duval Street have no idea how non touristy the rest of the island is.
The real estate market in the Lower Keys is sending mixed signals. Realtors tell us the market is regaining strength -come on down!- but foreclosures seem to be increasing and as they come on the market prices are weak. 
An acquaintance was recently advised the real estate office where she works is cutting her pay by one third (!) and her share of recent sales commissions have not yet (!) been paid. Her response was to cut her own hours by two per day so she saves herself the cost of daycare. My wife was rather freaked out by that piece of news.
Dropping house prices enable sales but they don't feed the machinery of the local economy like the recently inflated prices used to. 
Around here a large swath of lawn is nothing to be amazed about in New Town. Space like this in Old Town makes the owner a millionaire, even today. 
I like wide streets, off street parking and large offsets. If I had to live in the city I'd be looking around here, far from the drunken crowds.
Happily I'm not yet forced to give up my mortgage. I'm sure Wells Fargo is delighted, I fed their last quarter's absurd profits so it's more bonuses for everyone at the bank. Lucky them.
The house is shut up, the car is for sale. Hmm, a possible replacement for my oil burning kennel.An occupied house, a car not for sale.New town used to be open fields and there was a dairy around here in the days before Key West spread past Division Street, now known as Truman Avenue. Division used to divide the inhabited part of the island from the open space. Open, no longer. 
For Conchs of the day New Town development represented an opportunity to sell their tumbledown homes for ridiculous sums and build proper American homes on decent sized lots in what used to be fields.Off sets are are a good deal wider than in Old Town.It's starting to get hot if you happen to wear a fur coat out in public. 
But not so hot that one loses all interest in the outside world.A delightful tree house in a very large ficus (baobab). (see comment below...)
Classic ranchette style, car port, open landscape, lots of off street parking, no tourists. People who visit and inhabit only Duval Street have no idea how non touristy the rest of the island is.The real estate market in the Lower Keys is sending mixed signals. Realtors tell us the market is regaining strength -come on down!- but foreclosures seem to be increasing and as they come on the market prices are weak. An acquaintance was recently advised the real estate office where she works is cutting her pay by one third (!) and her share of recent sales commissions have not yet (!) been paid. Her response was to cut her own hours by two per day so she saves herself the cost of daycare. My wife was rather freaked out by that piece of news.Dropping house prices enable sales but they don't feed the machinery of the local economy like the recently inflated prices used to. Around here a large swath of lawn is nothing to be amazed about in New Town. Space like this in Old Town makes the owner a millionaire, even today. I like wide streets, off street parking and large offsets. If I had to live in the city I'd be looking around here, far from the drunken crowds.
Happily I'm not yet forced to give up my mortgage. I'm sure Wells Fargo is delighted, I fed their last quarter's absurd profits so it's more bonuses for everyone at the bank. Lucky them. 
When I was a youngster politics was the name of the game and changing the world was the game and until the need for material wealth overwhelmed all other considerations my generation made some important changes. And failed on a lot of counts which leaves one vulnerable to the same charge we leveled at the ones who went before, a lyric that went something like "... boy, you lot sure balled things up for us!" I find the old Navy warehouse on Truman Waterfront evocative. It should be gone soon, when the city commission stops wrangling over what to do with the 34 acres they were given by the military. A park, a gift to developers for a rich yacht marina, an old folks home, a water slide, you name it, they are at each other's throats over this. I like it as it is but entropy is bad I am told.
This ship was built in the Great Depression and is sitting out it's second Great Depression in retirement, soon to be a new floating museum. How lucky we are to have these night skies, and to be able to ride around under them helmetless, in shirt sleeves at nine o'clock at night in April.
God, I love my internal combustion. And in a country that is seeing essential services cut back and the mantra of no new taxes entrenched in the public psyche I am glad to see Key West, the improbable trend setter, forging ahead with no talk of cuts, no talk of unbalanced budgets, no threats of changing the status quo. Indeed, Fire Station Two may get a whole fresh building for the 21st century, and after they twice saved Duval Street from burning down this past year, you'd think they've earned it. At public expense.
In another critique of modern life we are told a household pet like Cheyenne produces as many harmful emissions as a gas guzzling vehicle, a critique I shrug off on the grounds she was saved from a shelter not purchased as a toy. Perhaps she misses mountains and valleys but she seems to enjoy these rambles where the views are not of leafy hills but salt water and empty horizons.
Landscaping without watering is the theory of modern gardening. Support local plants they say not evil Brazilian peppers flowing prettily, as many nasty invasive species are wont to do. 
...and the sea grapes lose their leaves...
...and cretinous humans feel compelled to leave their idiotic marks:
Puffy summer clouds are building... 
The heat is building and Cheyenne needs water. She prefers muddy puddles a choice not preferred by humans around the globe many of whom lack access to clean reliable drinking water.
As they rode the streets wailing loudly from the barely muffled four cylinder an old black man humping grocery bags looked at them and sniffed" Now why they do that?" "Because they're young" I said in answer to his rhetorical question, remembering my own callow youth. He was unimpressed by my remark as were the kids by my interest.
Cheyenne was unimpressed by the 16th Street Baptist Church, the scene of the bombing on September 15th, 1963, that killed four children and effectively helped turn the tide against the extremism of the segregationists. 
The Civil Rights Museum on Kelly Ingram Park is right next to the Church and welcomes neither dogs nor photographers, which meant Cheyenne spent the duration of our visit snoozing in the car, and my camera spent the tour in my pocket which is a shame because the museum is remarkable.
The park illustrates how close to the business district the church is and the bombing was not an act of violence on the periphery of the city.
Birmingham became known as Bombingham thanks to the violence of the times which are remembered for the 16th Street Church attack but in fact the city was riddled with violence. The black community embraced peaceful protest as their response.
These acts of public cruelty happened not so long ago. A former girlfriend told me stories of her memories of growing up in Jim Crow Florida. 
And the screen rolled up and in we went. One British tourist ignored the no photography sign but a guard appeared from nowhere to put him in his place. I figured we were under surveillance.
Afterwards we went to the soul food joint and ordered a slice of bean pie and some macaroni and cheese. The mac and cheese came with a thick slice of cheddar baked on top which was unusual for me. The bean pie was sweet which was a shock as we had expected something savory. We shared our slice for dessert.
With time drawing in on us we planned to eat Indian for dinner and leave very early in the morning. I walked Cheyenne through the neighborhood of the historic district, filled with brick and white people in splendid homes.
Not my dog who is a whore and friend to everyone.
I got my fill of mysterious alleys too which was fun. We walked at random in the cool of 70 degree (19C) afternoons by following Cheyenne's nose and getting lost in the hills among the mansions. I caught glimpses of Johnny Coley's vast apartment complex dominating the Highland Avenue skyline:
Lawn mowing as a social event.
There were lots of "For Rent" signs everywhere.
And plenty of impressive homes, leftovers overs from the era of affluence and industry.
Two gay men on a bright scarlet scooter in the middle of Alabama. The times they really are a-changing. I guess I looked pretty gay myself. Oh well.
Heating bills must be hell.
We said our goodbyes to Johnny Coley that night promising ourselves an extra early start, which turned out to be pure bollocks and Johnny came back to his apartment after a night with a friend to find us staring blearily out at the world from his terrace. 
