This essay is in apology for last year when the Christmas lights of Key West got away from me and I failed signally to go out and get pictures. This year I nagged my wife to death that this was the one thing I had to do this week that I am off before the holiday.
Thursday I showed up for my last night work before Christmas and was greeted by a whole riot of decorations. "Someone had too much time on their hands, " I grumbled. Thank you Officer Niko for making dispatch look so pretty.
Even the kitchen got the treatment (the loo didn't so I'm not including any pictures of the Communications Commode in case anyone was worried). I usually take my lunch break sleeping in the recliner so to get the requisite dark I had to shut the tree off for an hour. It came back to life okay when I went back on duty.
I'm okay with the concept of "Joy" but the "Let It Snow" thing is strictly for the birds. I am quite fond of the Cuban celebration of the snow free Christmas. Everything gets celebrated on the good night before Christmas-
Noche Buena- when the family gathers and usually eats pork rice and beans exchanges gifts, traditionally modest but nowadays inflated of course in size and expense, and everything returns to normal Christmas Day. The Nordic notion of cold dark and snow is beyond comprehension. I work with several Cubans who have never seen snow.
When I went to turn on my reading lights at my work station in the corner John grumbled about me obliterating the Christmas lights strung around our work stations. Noel on the left (Phones and Fire/Rescue), Keith on the right (Phones and Channel Two/ Warrant Checks) and me in the middle (avoiding phones by being on the main police channel). This is where I will be Christmas night.
My wife gave herself a stress fracture in her foot in time for Christmas, but luckily she's a Jew who has only the faintest understanding of the Christmas story, but she understands pain quite well so we drove off to Marathon to meet a human skeleton celebrating the season. I have previously photographed Ted, Dr Collin's human bone model but this time it was a matter of whimsy.
When I asked the orthopedist who decorated his skeleton he looked at it in amazement and said "Oh, really? I never noticed" to howls of abuse from his office staff who took the time to make his offices look nice. Ted Collins is actually quite a decent guy and gave my wife a couple of prescriptions and an admonishment to take it easy for three weeks. No chance.
My wife's health insurance through the school district kept the charge down to an entirely bearable $20 and we exchanged a few thoughts about motorcycling with his very keen office person (and rider). We left the office with our hearts still beating though in one sense we did check out properly.
And so to the proper seasonal pictures for this time of year. Staples Avenue off 12th Street came well equipped with fantastic arrays of light and color and whimsy.
I don't suppose one can ever have enough of this though what the banner referred to directly I couldn't say. And it did seem a little indelicate to ask. I'm off talking to people too much these days when I have my camera in hand.
Christmas is wreaths and holly and red ribbons, it matters not your latitude.
Chuck and Wayne and Cheyenne came along, my wife with her foot stayed in the car.
This photograph illustrates exactly why Labradors should come in yellow not black (or chocolate). Nice eyes though and he was cheery enough that Cheyenne got jealous.
It would be wrong of me to suggest that were a Triumph Speed Triple to turn up under the Christmas Tree I would be annoyed, but I really don't think 125 horsepower would improve my quality of life too much. And my wife would get seriously annoyed at the tickets I would get. Nevertheless it did look quite festive all in green, unlike the rather nice Yamaha Fazer in the background.
These people are serious about their decorations.
This one was across from 12th Street on Flagler Avenue.
Reindeer and snowmen, I prefer the illuminated palm trunks.
I hope this is as close to a snowflake as I ever get to see for a very long time.
After all the New Town festivity we repaired to Southard Street on our way to the Tropic Theater for a night of French cinema and the adulterous exploits of Mademoiselle Chambon. On the way we took in some more lights.
Under the fullish moon, of which more anon.
This extravagance, a snowman rowing was part of a larger extravagance that illuminated a whole corner of Southard Street.
The house was quite a show and attracted walkers just like us, dogs and all.
There was a very aggravating sign in front of the house announcing it had won
second prize for it's magnificent decorations. "So who won first?" Wayne asked the night sky plaintively. No answer was forthcoming. Personally I'm not sure competitive decorating is a sport in the proper spirit of Christmas, but not much is in the end.
On the front of the guest house another Santa was fishing next to a sign wishing us a happy keysmas.
A car came down the street and I pulled over to let them by. Instead they blocked me and took their sweet bloody time admiring the decorations. I should have gone ballistic but the movie wasn't starting for twenty minutes and well...Christmas...spirit...and all that. Bah humbug.
But beyond all matters mythical the moon was full this past week and very splendid it was too.
Wayne and Chuck had talked about being up between two am and three am to watch the full lunar eclipse, the first such on the winter solstice since the seventeenth century. Something like that. Anyway I was, to my shame, pretty much not that interested in the whole two ante-meridien project, a time when I like to be sound asleep when I'm not working. Then the Fates took a hand and wouldn't you know it I woke up needing to pee at 2:17 am. Not one to fight destiny I wandered out into the freezing cold night and there it was, a gradually fading moon. My gorillapod to balance the camera was not to hand but of course I had to give it my best shot, by hand, as though to prove I was there if nothing else. And so I was.
My wife watched for a while but it was cold out there on the deck, less than 60 degrees (15 C) which for us is cold. I left the red moon to do it's thing as the white crescent grew slowly back. Three o'clock in the morning is a very antisocial hour for an eclipse in my opinion.
An alert reader pointed out that Jack riepe might feel deprived were he not able to take a particular look at this- quoting Chuck on Fleming now- bodacious blonde:
And, driving home at night, around Mile Marker 16 we start to observe the three Ho Ho Ho Houses on Sugarloaf Key next to the airstrip. 
Always a cheerful reminder that the season of goodwill is on hand. Happy Christmas!
This expanse of water to the west is called Long Key Bight which looks like a snug anchorage. It is quite shallow far in but the center of the bight (a bight is defined as wide bay by sailors) carries about four feet at low tide. I don't usually see any boats inside as most people like more than a few inches of water under their keels. Shallow draft boats are handy in the Keys.
There is a convenient gravel parking area at the east side of the north end of the bridge on Long Key. It's actually convenient enough that I have seen more than one MCSO patrol car checking speeds on the slope down from the bridge. I stopped at the bridge to take Cheyenne for a walk.
Cormorants resting on the base of a power pole. Even at rest they look speedy.
There is a long line of poles paralleling the bridge:
The bridge is the only viable channel for tall masts to cross from one side of the Keys to the other between Windley Key's Snake Creek drawbridge and the Seven Mile Bridge tall span on the west side of Marathon. The old railroad bridge makes for a pleasant half mile walk out to the channel itself.
The wooden rails at the channel make a good resting spot for more birds.
They cut the old Flagler bridge here and abandoned the piece that stretches out from Craig Key. 
More birds, amazingly enough. 
And there, up above is the location of the Channel Five Bridge. I am not exactly sure where the other channels are though there is a channel two bridge, a more modest affair, nearby. 
These modern cement spans are quite elegant in their way.
I was glad to get out of the wind and warm up in the sun while my Labrador rooted around.
The old and the new bridges, side by side. For a one hundred year old structure Flagler's bridge is amazingly solid. 
And this is me driving my dog home on the Overseas Highway, here coming into the City of Layton (Mile Marker 69).
From here to my home at Mile marker 27 will take about an hour, maybe a little less, and a very pleasant drive it is too, when all the Christmas tourists aren't clogging the road to Key West!
The rest of us disposed ourselves around the boat for the twenty minute ride to Marvin Key.
Zuzu and Tootie (I can't tell them apart) kept an eye on the engine.
I was looking around on a beautiful seventy five degree afternoon.
I enjoy being the passenger and as this was my first trip to Marvin I had nothing to add to Chuck's handling of the boat, here passing under North Harris Channel Bridge Mile Marker 18. 
There is a collection of liveaboard boaters north of Sugarloaf Marina. 
The back country is littered with small mangrove islands, dots of green that break up the blue on blue of sea and sky. 
We saw a few cormorants and a pod of dolphin as we cruised up to Marvin Key, and we also enjoyed a brief interlude when the "Check Engine Light" came on and we waited for the situation to resolve itself, which it did after five minutes of floating around. Then we arrived and found a great deal more water than anticipated. 
The idea at Marvin Key is to arrive at low tide and enjoy spreading sands and lots of room to run the dogs. Cheyenne was still snug in the cabin and there was nowhere for her to walk. 
It seemed a shame to disturb the birds for such a small piece of sand above water. 
Zuzu (or Tootie) had found her own spot to observe proceedings as we tootled around looking for dry sand of which there was none. 
Wayne likes to keep the dogs leashed as they have a tendency to forget themselves on the water. 
Sartorially correct for a day on the water with the prospect of wading. 
Chuck has made himself insufferable lately boasting about the size of his "tomatoes." Here he is lecturing my wife about some uninteresting subject, probably his success as a gardener. 
With nowhere to walk the dogs we turned tail and headed south. A center console that passed us on the way out turned around and came back alongside us. 
It was a fast easy ride home. 
Chuck took the channel headlong at full speed, brave lad, as the water was so thin we couldn't come off a plane and risk hitting bottom. 
Then we went crabbing. A story for another cold dark winter's day.
Thursday I showed up for my last night work before Christmas and was greeted by a whole riot of decorations. "Someone had too much time on their hands, " I grumbled. Thank you Officer Niko for making dispatch look so pretty.
Even the kitchen got the treatment (the loo didn't so I'm not including any pictures of the Communications Commode in case anyone was worried). I usually take my lunch break sleeping in the recliner so to get the requisite dark I had to shut the tree off for an hour. It came back to life okay when I went back on duty.
My wife gave herself a stress fracture in her foot in time for Christmas, but luckily she's a Jew who has only the faintest understanding of the Christmas story, but she understands pain quite well so we drove off to Marathon to meet a human skeleton celebrating the season. I have previously photographed Ted, Dr Collin's human bone model but this time it was a matter of whimsy.
I don't suppose one can ever have enough of this though what the banner referred to directly I couldn't say. And it did seem a little indelicate to ask. I'm off talking to people too much these days when I have my camera in hand.
Christmas is wreaths and holly and red ribbons, it matters not your latitude. 
Chuck and Wayne and Cheyenne came along, my wife with her foot stayed in the car.
This photograph illustrates exactly why Labradors should come in yellow not black (or chocolate). Nice eyes though and he was cheery enough that Cheyenne got jealous.
It would be wrong of me to suggest that were a Triumph Speed Triple to turn up under the Christmas Tree I would be annoyed, but I really don't think 125 horsepower would improve my quality of life too much. And my wife would get seriously annoyed at the tickets I would get. Nevertheless it did look quite festive all in green, unlike the rather nice Yamaha Fazer in the background.
These people are serious about their decorations.
This one was across from 12th Street on Flagler Avenue.
Reindeer and snowmen, I prefer the illuminated palm trunks.
I hope this is as close to a snowflake as I ever get to see for a very long time.
After all the New Town festivity we repaired to Southard Street on our way to the Tropic Theater for a night of French cinema and the adulterous exploits of Mademoiselle Chambon. On the way we took in some more lights.
Under the fullish moon, of which more anon.
This extravagance, a snowman rowing was part of a larger extravagance that illuminated a whole corner of Southard Street.
The house was quite a show and attracted walkers just like us, dogs and all.
There was a very aggravating sign in front of the house announcing it had won second prize for it's magnificent decorations. "So who won first?" Wayne asked the night sky plaintively. No answer was forthcoming. Personally I'm not sure competitive decorating is a sport in the proper spirit of Christmas, but not much is in the end.
On the front of the guest house another Santa was fishing next to a sign wishing us a happy keysmas.
A car came down the street and I pulled over to let them by. Instead they blocked me and took their sweet bloody time admiring the decorations. I should have gone ballistic but the movie wasn't starting for twenty minutes and well...Christmas...spirit...and all that. Bah humbug.
But beyond all matters mythical the moon was full this past week and very splendid it was too.
