If I had to see this cheery billboard every time I came home "...love for life!" I'd barf, but saccharine sentiments have never been my strong suit. Summerland Cove, despite it's arch "leave-it-to-Beaver" public sentiment is quite the neighborhood in the Lower Keys. It's rather hidden away from the Overseas Highway but the old Bahama Jack's restaurant is a landmark on the other side of the road.
Slice of Paradise Pizza (the best in the Lower Keys in my opinion) is also found next to the bridge entrance to the subdivision whose street is marked thus:
The little bridge crosses the canal that separates Summerland Cove from the rest of the island:
I've been down this canal system in my boat, looking for fuel at the Chevron dock next to Highway One, but it's a bit of a chore threading your way back and forth through the maze of waterways at walking speed. Much better to cruise the neighborhood by bicycle, all the better to admire the architecture:
One could easily imagine oneself perched out here on the open water view on this glorious November afternoon:
This enormous pile is available for seasonal rental, though I have to say it looked rather shabby and even unfinished. 
It felt like every other house was for sale or for rent up and down the street.
It's a shame but this seems like a neighborhood falling on hard times. Not surprising really, considering the state of the economy, but this is a place where the modern McMansions were thriving during the housing bubble.
Everyone wanted their stilt home in the sun.
With attendant vessel of course:
Everyone wanted their stilt home in the sun.
With attendant vessel of course:
And for some a whole island is barely enough:
For everybody else there is cheek-by-jowl island living:
Sometimes one dish just isn't enough.
This next home had a "Beware of the Dog" sign tacked to the front, just to make the place look homely. I figured a "Beware of the Steps" might have been apposite, especially for a visitor with a heart condition.
For everybody else there is cheek-by-jowl island living:
Sometimes one dish just isn't enough.
This next home had a "Beware of the Dog" sign tacked to the front, just to make the place look homely. I figured a "Beware of the Steps" might have been apposite, especially for a visitor with a heart condition.
I tried repeatedly with various exposures to get the proper shade of turquoise to shine through in this next picture. Had my wife come home to our slightly shabby house painted with the exquisite care of this one, but in this startling shade of teal I think she might kill me. For somebody this bright paintwork spells (winter) home:
For somebody else lemon yellow is the right shade of house paint. This is apparently a year round resident, one of those charming people who like to inflict their very loud radios on the neighborhood. I got the weather forecast from US1 Radio (107.1FM) from this canal side residence. "For you boaters..." the woman's voice bawled across the water as she gave the marine forecast with all the expert knowledge of someone who wouldn't know a rudder from a prop shaft.
Glorious noise pollution; come the revolution all transistors will be short circuited.
For somebody else lemon yellow is the right shade of house paint. This is apparently a year round resident, one of those charming people who like to inflict their very loud radios on the neighborhood. I got the weather forecast from US1 Radio (107.1FM) from this canal side residence. "For you boaters..." the woman's voice bawled across the water as she gave the marine forecast with all the expert knowledge of someone who wouldn't know a rudder from a prop shaft.
Glorious noise pollution; come the revolution all transistors will be short circuited.
This Mediterranean-style home will do nicely until strong winds pick up hurling terra cotta tiles acorss the neighborhood. Metal roofs do best in hurricane country.
"But by all means dump across the street at my neighbor's..."
I'll bet this concrete block structure was one of the original homes built in this subdivision. they cost twice as much to insure as stilt homes, as they are subject to flooding in storms, but they are the typical Florida dwellings of the 50s and 60s, and as such worth noting:
I'll bet this concrete block structure was one of the original homes built in this subdivision. they cost twice as much to insure as stilt homes, as they are subject to flooding in storms, but they are the typical Florida dwellings of the 50s and 60s, and as such worth noting:
This is modern Florida; an empty lot, a seawall and a giant pile struggling for an ocean glimpse from the top floor. Nearer to God and further from good taste.
Old boats don't decompose, they just sink into the shrubbery:
Old boats don't decompose, they just sink into the shrubbery:
And modern homes surrender to the weeds as banks foreclose and mortgage holders flee and entropy takes back the former American Dream of a home in the sun:
Florida, for the first time ever, saw more people leave the state, than move in, last year. Should we be glad, finally, or worried?
When the guy with the plants shows up at the Big Pine Key flea market, it's time to plant. So we pulled out our Topsy Turvy planters and got to work filling them after months of keeping them ready for action in the shed.
The Topsy Turvy is available by mail for monstrous mailing fees or from Target if you happen to be in Miami among the big shops. Basically it's a plastic tube with a sponge at the south end and an opening at the north end. The plant of your choice hangs from the south end while the contraption is suspended from the north end after you fill it with a plant and some dirt:
The beauty of the Topsy Turvy is that it doesn't need weeding, it's iguana-proof and by hanging the plant it takes up not much room if that's a concern for an apartment dweller. I figure one could make a planter with a bucket, a sponge, a drill, some wire and so forth but this works for me:
A quick slosh with some water (tomatoes can't get enough water I'm told):
Such that when I asked my wife to hold the camera she used her initative to take a picture of the hanging in progress:
And presto! As unlikely as it may seem the tomato will thrive hanging upside down. I will water it frequently from the deck when I am watering the other plants and the tomatoes will taste splendid:
We have been growing some seedlings for planting in one of the beds left over from last winter, and I think we will see some lettuce if the iguanas can be induced to stay away. We also planted a few herbs in our other Earthbox along with a tomato and we shall see what we shall see:
Our fruit trees are doing nicely into this their second season and with my experiences from last year I hope this winter will see a more productive growing season. All I've got to do is keep the iguanas away. By any means necessary.
Now with the return of winter time it looks like this at 6:15 am:
The wind is continuing to blow out of the north bringing clear blue skies, bright sunshine and cool dry temperatures. This is a spectacular state of affairs to wake up to at lunch time, but it does tend to wash out a little of the violent, moisture laden mornings of summer. Still, the rich orange glow across the flat waters and the mangrove islands has it's own beauty:
I was standing on the bridge near Mile Marker 18 between North Harris Channel and Park key and in the distance, to the east, I could see the traffic light at Sugarloaf School, the one they installed a few years ago to help school buses get on the Highway. It's the green disc seen below:
Commuting is supposed to be a penance in the modern world but in the Keys it's not so bad at all. Traffic tends to get a bit heavy between seven and nine going in to Key West and between five and seven in the evening coming out, but for a wild card like me, commuting is just a pleasant motorcycle ride. Working at night puts me against the traffic flow, and the scenery is always spectacular. I love my commute.
Even when the traffic is heavy there is rarely any stop and go on the commute, it's mostly a matter of sitting in a line of cars traveling a little less than the speed limit. For me, the ride is mostly an open road.
The one lane road leading to my house was in the shadow of the houses and the trees but to the south I could see the big puffy clouds of moisture gathered over the warm waters of the gulf Stream, on the horizon: 
There is nothing residential down here, there isn't much greenery and of beauty, the eye of this beholder sees not much at all. There is a pharmacy though, if you need pharmaceutical thing while busy getting drunk.
This is dust catcher heaven and I watched these visitors poring over various knick knacks, doubtless imported from the Mysterious Orient for their pleasure.
Every fifth male of my generation is called Michael, so I am ready to bet good money there is one with my name on it...
...so if I ever feel the need to have a sea shell with my name on it catching motes of dust in my small home, this is where I will be sure to come to pump up the Key West economy:
On the left there we see the imposing bulk of Zero Duval, Ocean Key House:
Nowadays it's all about moving people which is probably a much easier way to make a living than sailing cargo around the coast. It's a lot less romantic to someone who earns his living in the air conditioned comfort of the police station. I don't actually miss my former job as boat captain.
I was hoping for enlightenment and a point of view, about how the city makes it's money, but I could stand here and snap pictures till the cows come home and I would be no closer to a conclusion. A few years ago everyone was up in arms about Key West selling it's heritage to cruise ships and tour buses and developers and I wondered how it would be if the money spigot dried up. Now it has, for a lot of people, and the chance for the rest to make small fortune is evaporating fast. Yet the city still depends totally on tourism to supplement the steady income from the military, which fortunately shows no signs of disappearing. The last time the military pulled back left the city in ruins.
Of course Key West as pleasure palace wears a bit thin for people paying through the nose to live in the city, and that "island time" fantasy makes no sense to people rushing between multiple jobs and family obligations. Key West has always been trapped between fantasy and reality, ever since the Works Progress Administration decided to try tourism to revive the bankrupt city. The plan worked fabulously but Key West has had to reconcile being a romantic island with being in the business of being in business. Tourism always seems to provoke this dichotomy, but Key West's geographic isolation makes the situation that much more complex. When I lived in a mainland tourist town I had almost no contact with visitors. They had their routes to the beach and I had my tourist-free destinations in and around town. In Key West not only is that difficult to accomplish in such a small space, it is made more complex because being a local is a desired status. Most visitors desire contact with locals to go where locals go and eat where they eat.
I asked once on a forum why people fascinated with key West don't just move here and the responses were the predictable mixture of family and job obligations, low pay, high cost of living and so forth. I was forced to the conclusion that Key west is better as a dream and a fantasy escape from real life than as real life itself. For some people this is the end of the road, and if they land up here with no money and no prospects, that's okay too. They take a seat, cadge spare change and watch the world go by. 
My mid-year resolution was to help struggling tourists trying to find their way on the streets, and to keep my impatience in check with the erratic winter driving and keep reminding myself that living here is a choice, not a dream killer. I would probably never visit Key West if I stopped living here. The tourist destinations bore me, and the fault lies, I believe, in me not in them. Lower Duval is for visitors and they certainly seem to enjoy it.