First Light Over Bahia Honda

I am not looking forward to Winter Time in a couple of months so I am carrying my Canon SX100 when I take Cheyenne for her early walks.

It's hot and humid during the day and she likes to expend her energy before the sun gains strength so I spend a lot of time seeking out different walks to cheer her up and keep her interested. I am amazed how often I see people walking their dogs same place, same time day after day. Cheyenne would never put up with it.

It's pretty nice to be out here around seven in the morning as the sun starts to color the sky and the clouds and the water.

Highway One offers few sounds as commuters are just gearing up for the most part and tourists are still snoring in Miami, for the most part. Not all of them but enough that engine noise doesn't overwhelm the sound of the wind in my ears.

I have lots of time to look out over the water as Cheyenne snuffles around in the anglers' abandoned trash.

Its too dark to read so I always hope for an inspiring sunrise. This one had it's moments.

I was there to benefit my dog and do nothing more than keep an eye on her. Others were out with blood lust on their minds.

I mean, really, it's not bad is it? Sunrise over Bahia Honda in the distance.

The cause of all the trouble couple of hours later.



I wonder if she dreams of beauty seen or just remembers dead bait fish and trash.



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Jack Baron, Artist

I almost walked past the exhibit at the Art and History Museum on Front Street but the astonishingly bright colors sucked me in. Whoa! I thought, primitivism writ large!

Besides, I have a penchant for pink, exhibited in my own small way with my Crocs, my iPad cover and my phone holder, so how could I not take a peak at something with a label like this?

I had never previously heard of Jack Baron, my loss as a quick scan of a bio on the Gingerbread Square website showed me quite clearly this was a man with talent.

Apparently Baron was 78 years old when he died in Key West in 2005. A native of new York he spent 52 years with his partner Robert, who it turns out was the man responsible for giving him the push to express himself in paint and tapestry. Because if you look closely these "paintings" are made not from paint:

Baron's work deserves a closer look and from my perspective, not being an art critic or anything, I was simply bowled over by the notion that someone could crotchet or knit or whatever a full sized portrait like this, an act of faith and patience byond my ken:

The Museum in the red brick Old Customs House has habit of doing this to me, surprising me and delighting me when I least expect it. I mean, you go and expect to see interesting historical exhibits, or Hemingway memorabilia, But Jack...Who? What a great find.

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Riepe Invades My Space

It's a shocking day when one opens one's e-mail and there sits a charming little gift from the famously tolerant Jack Riepe, writer, humorist and former owner of the very desirable BMW K75 with the rare Sprint fairing, known to his readers as 'Blueballs.'

Jack loves BMW motorcycles and has about as much empathy for dogs as I do for owners of BMW motorcycles whose final drive shafts blow up from time to time for no known reason, and yet those owners remain stubbornly in love with Bavarian machinery. Give me a Labrador over a broken expensive German shaft drive any day.

And don't forget to go to his website "Twisted Roads" at www.jackriepe.blogspot.com and order his new book. He is an ace storyteller.

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Morning Clouds And Light

This time of year my Labrador likes to spend a lot of time on her morning ambles because its cooler before the sun comes up and she puts in a lot of effort to walk as much as she can. For myself I'd rather be tucking myself up for a long morning's sleep after spending the night sitting up working, but if I were to ignore my dog's wishes I'd be turning my back on the likes of this:

By the time the sun has been in the sky a while temperatures will be getting close to ninety degrees and that's just too warm for a small dog in a heavy fur coat. That's when she likes to be indoors where the air conditioning makes the wooden floors cool enough for her to lie down and snore the sleep of the just.

I walk with my head in the air captivated by what the great Everglades photographer Clyde Butcher calls "Florida's mountains."

I am alone in being fascinated by the play of emergent sunlight on accumulated water vapor in the skies. Cheyenne keeps her head firmly to ground and spends the cool of the summer morning trotting back and forth chasing scents through the mangroves. All the pictures will enlarge if you click on them.

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Still Electioneering

I was amused, as I rode down White Street to see this huge billboard across the street from Sandy's Cafe dwarfing candidates for county commissioner and Sheriff...


In the grand scheme of things the Mosquito Control Board isn't the most important agency in the county. On the other hand they did just raise their -gasp!- tax rate by some modest rate this year. Perhaps candidates for this post do need the extra huge billboard!

Ps: Sandy's has closed for two week's vacation, news that shook rigid the Police Department where I work. What night shift will do without the only 24 hour outlet for Cuban con leché and pork sandwiches I just don't know. Hard times ahead.

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Sunday Morning In Key West

There is something modern and convenient about plastic sheets covering pretty windows. One can't argue this is a sensible and convenient form of hurricane protection. It still looks odd when I see a reflection where there should be non.

Every time I walk Eaton and see the sign offering Big Pecker wines I think of Parrotdise which I miss on Little Torch Key. When the restaurant closed I figured the owner's son's wine sales would die. Not a bit of it and the silly wine name lives on.

The bikes are fine, sort of, locked to the city owned sign, not technically legal but still...motorcycles can still park in their allotted spots on the street.

I wonder why the notion of free motorcycle parking is so hard for most American cities to grasp.

A contemplative Cheyenne at rest. She knows most of the answers to life's persistent questions but she isn't telling.

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