My wife, on her way to the gym in the morning dropped Cheyenne and I off along the way, on the north side of Highway One. The suburbs of Ramrod:
I like this island and why people throw beer bottles along the road I couldn't say.
First thing in the morning, in the cool of early morning the dog is full of energy and picture taking suffers as a consequence. Tilted house: 
Not so tilted house. Cheyenne must have been rooting in the bushes.
The side of Ramrod north of Highway One is a suburb of mixed homes mostly on dry lots, even though there are some canals. 
There are lots of wooded areas between the houses on this side of the island. Cheyenne takes advantage.
As do people for some extraordinary reason. 
Many of the cross streets are gravel roads which gives the island a truly rural flavor. Ramrod is small, some three miles by one mile approximately, in a more or less triangular shape. 
It is named for a ship that hit the reef south of here and sank ignominiously. Some people think Ramrod Key is named for sexual deviance but that is more a reflection of them than the island. but I confess I am not completely certain what sort of deviance the name conjures, nevertheless if you want a wooded hideaway there are still opportunities.
There are remarkably large homes on these expansive dry lots. Just keep the boat on a trailer and you are never far from salt water. 
The Florida Keys Aqueduct provides running water for all and that little silver disc is some sort of automated meter reading device. I sued to think being a meter reader driving around all day would be a fine job. It's gone the way of buggy whip making, for the most part.
There's always something of interest for a dog on the move. 
It doesn't look much like a rottweiler but it has back up.
As usual Cheyenne went her way ignoring all other dogs. 
It's a small island but there are miles of streets to wander at will and not much traffic after everyone has gone to work. 
Parts of the island are salt marshes surrounded by mangroves. Insect repellent comes in handy. 
One of the nicest, most symmetrical poincianas around. 
This building used to house the medical examiner's office before they moved it to Marathon. I always thought it odd I lived across the Highway from the autopsy center of the Keys.
I like this island and why people throw beer bottles along the road I couldn't say.
First thing in the morning, in the cool of early morning the dog is full of energy and picture taking suffers as a consequence. Tilted house: Not so tilted house. Cheyenne must have been rooting in the bushes. 
The side of Ramrod north of Highway One is a suburb of mixed homes mostly on dry lots, even though there are some canals. 
There are lots of wooded areas between the houses on this side of the island. Cheyenne takes advantage.
As do people for some extraordinary reason. 
Many of the cross streets are gravel roads which gives the island a truly rural flavor. Ramrod is small, some three miles by one mile approximately, in a more or less triangular shape. 
It is named for a ship that hit the reef south of here and sank ignominiously. Some people think Ramrod Key is named for sexual deviance but that is more a reflection of them than the island. but I confess I am not completely certain what sort of deviance the name conjures, nevertheless if you want a wooded hideaway there are still opportunities.There are remarkably large homes on these expansive dry lots. Just keep the boat on a trailer and you are never far from salt water. The Florida Keys Aqueduct provides running water for all and that little silver disc is some sort of automated meter reading device. I sued to think being a meter reader driving around all day would be a fine job. It's gone the way of buggy whip making, for the most part.
There's always something of interest for a dog on the move. 
It doesn't look much like a rottweiler but it has back up.
As usual Cheyenne went her way ignoring all other dogs. 
It's a small island but there are miles of streets to wander at will and not much traffic after everyone has gone to work. 
Parts of the island are salt marshes surrounded by mangroves. Insect repellent comes in handy. 
One of the nicest, most symmetrical poincianas around. This building used to house the medical examiner's office before they moved it to Marathon. I always thought it odd I lived across the Highway from the autopsy center of the Keys.
And so home to our side of the island, forty minutes later. 
A final twenty minute stump and sniff and we will be home at last.
A final twenty minute stump and sniff and we will be home at last.
Which is all well and good, but when you are a restless soul like me and on vacation you have places to go and things to see.
The last time I was in downtown Burnsville was in the freezing winter of 2008 and I have to say this time of year the place is much nicer. I found another of those notions stores that I photographed not so long ago in Key West.
Cheyenne and I were at a loose end while the wife was smashing up a treadmill near by so we took a short walk around the town square, pride and joy of this little town. They have managed to retain the Old Town with its government buildings but across Highway 19 one can see the visions of unloveliness inflicted on us all by Big Box Stores.
They had a habit back then of building nice buildings that looked good and were planned to last. 
Overall it is quite refreshing how dog tolerant this part of the world is, far more so than even Key West ironically. Banking and law making all crowded into one prominent part of the city. It says something doesn't it even though this isn't actually a direct arm of Goldman Sachs.
Big sky country. 
All of which has absolutely nothing to do with the pictures I have lined up of stuff I saw growing in the woods around Asheville. I have found over the years that there is a stereotype of mountain people in these parts that has as it's source that exciting and 1972 movie Deliverance. It told the story of a camping trip gone wrong where the city slickers upset some locals and pay a horrible price for their invasion of their secretive Georgia backwoods. The "squeal like a pig" rape scene shocked audiences at a time when such a thing as shock was possible in a theater and the image of country people as violent inbred freaks has persisted. It is a great shame because the few people I have come across on my rambles in these mountains are shy, kind, cheerful and generous in inverse proportion to their poverty. My in laws who have made these mountains their home for 35 years know far more than I do and their experiences have been uniformly positive. Such is the power of Hollywood and advertising.
I grew up in a part of Italy where truffles and fungus are a way of eating and I rate a plate of mushrooms fried in garlic and olive oil as a worthwhile meal any day of the week. I am no picker of mushrooms but I find them fascinating and beautiful in their colorful resilience and I was delighted to see them sprouting in the leafy piles along the mountain trails.
