Winn Dixie Walk

A summer sunrise in the Keys, more precisely over Big Pine Key in the woods east of Winn Dixie, the Big Pine supermarket.Seven o'clock in the morning and the air is cool, relatively speaking, and the light is gray.The light gets even more diffuse when the camera fogs up after exiting the air conditioned car.

If I forget to open the windows and fill the car with hot muggy air before we arrive the camera tends to fog and the lense stays fogged for quite some time. So now that it's summer I have to either learn patience or I need to think ahead to avoid fogging the camera.
The early hours are tough for me after a night spent sitting up at work, but for Cheyenne this is the best time of day. There's no one around, everyone else is going to work or sleeping it off. Even in these woods where a lively population of homeless doss down, there is no one sitting around with a beer when your average hobo is asleep.Just me and my dog. And a few rain puddles left over from the night before. My wife called me at 2 am to say the thunder had woken her up and for the first time Cheyenne was scared by the noise. I was sitting in the Communications Center 30 miles away where it was a dry quiet night with not a drop of rain in sight.I have no idea what fascinates her- trace of deer perhaps or boot of tramp. I wonder if red ribbons mean tree cutting is on the horizon. Summer is the best time of year for castles in the sky, or Florida Mountains as they have been called.Someone has been widening the trail, cutting the brush and apparently burning the ferns. It makes the trail rather less picturesque. It exposes the deer too. At the other end of the quarter mile trail there is a subdivision of mostly empty homes, this time of year, waiting for the winter residents to return. This seems to be a busy year for Key Deer, they are everywhere and reproducing.Sunrise means time for bed for the night shift vampire.

And his dog.

Danette's Key West

Maurice and Danette, visiting from Denver.Lunch at Azur, mimosas in the middle of the day set me back a bit. Alcohol and noon day sun cry out for a nap when mixed.I had managed to miss Denver and Danette on the epic drive home from California. Luckily I already knew she would be showing up in Florida for a vacation. And a chicken sandwich.I had long wanted to try Azur's Salade Nicoise and finally got my chance. My wife went for the Snapper Benedict that would have served the two of us all by itself. Actually we did share the dishes as required by Jewish marital law.We talked, Maurice it turns out works for the Denver school district so the conversation turned for a while on how it is to work in such a small district (Monroe County) or such a large one (Denver).Maurice it was who turned Danette onto vacationing in Key West and she has become an enthusiastic southernmost tripper. A teacher turned librarian the dream of living in the Keys is there, but Maurice hinted at the tight knit nature of family that will keep the wannabe Conch at home. Which is the best of reasons if you ask me. Being a nomad, I have always had a certain sense of envy in the face of people who find contentment close to one place all their lives.

It's hard to explain the peculiar nature of daily living at the end of a very long, very isolated peninsula. I failed in this case in my effort to reassure that life in the Keys isn't necessarily a universal panacea. I have noticed over the years how Conchs (konks, people born in Key West) cope with the close knit nature of life in the island city. They develop the ability to mask the aggravation of close human contact, they smooth over the surprise or vexation that a situation forced upon them by proximity may cause. Anger in a town where you will be passing each other daily is an unfortunate manifestation so good manners and reticence prevail, as much as possible. In a sense it is a holdover from a past era of greater good manners forced on all people everywhere, limited in those days by the immobility of the age of the horse as the primary form of locomotion. People all over the world didn't move much a hundred and fifty years ago, at a time when when Key West was new, and social mobility was a fantasy everywhere. You lived and died where you were born, for the most part. Nowadays anyone who grows up with a toe hold on the island tends to hold on tight and pass the toe hold down through the generations. Which, in the 21st century has become an unusual practice, with the advent of social mobility on the mainland. I have found it's some few irritated long term incomers who expect deference in their daily transactions with lesser mortals, those who had the bad taste to arrive after them, when Key West was at the zenith of it's earthly perfection, a status ruined by late arrivals. A conversation that starts "...I have lived here for X number of years..." doesn't usually end well in my experience. The speaker acts as though one is under an obligation to their longevity and though I am able to speak convincingly of Key West in 1981 when I first rode my Vespa here I find the whole condescending expectation of servility based on longevity to be rather annoying. Especially as Conchs don't usually behave so crassly in public. Unlike we immigrants they don't have to claim longevity, their place in local society is assured, behind a veil that hides them from us. It all makes for a society with a pecking order of Byzantine complexity, as immutable as time and secretive and complex as the Topkapi. Explain that to conch wannabes, if they even wanted to hear it. Key West's bland coconut filled facade is terribly seductive, and it is the goal most usually sought after by visitors. To consider living in Key West reequires a certain lack of ambition and a profound inner seeking after stasis. Key West has an odd habit of rejecting some people who come here to live, certain that they will find their place in the sun. Others like me who land here almost by accident find a quiet, unambitious niche, even without seeking it. The mountain dwellers left the wife and Cheyenne and I at the sidewalk. Key West, the visitor's paradise was theirs to explore for a week and I wished them well.

I think I should go mad were I to live here and wish to live somewhere else, as my time on earth is running out. I feel lucky I live where I like to be. I feel especially lucky to have a place in the sun where I don't impinge on the Conchs and rarely cross swords with the crass incomers and where my lack of ambition makes living in the Lower Keys a matter of tugging my forelock and collecting my pay check, and going home to behappy with with my family and those friends who may well have lived here a lot longer than us, but don't feel a need to impose their longevity on those around them. There are lots of these fine incomers if you are lucky enough to be able to discover them, and the loud, brash kind can easily be avoided. I find life here very good on those terms, and I pity those who come seeking to leave their mark on a self contained world that actually feels no need at all to know how things are done Up North. Of course nothing is as cool as when I first came to Key West in 1981, when everything was better, more laid back, friendlier and in general nicer...than it ever could be now with all it's new faces and crowds and blah blah blah. Come on down Danette, the water's lovely and there's always room for a couple more. No matter what the Turkmen in the Topkapi tell you. "Key West was great when I got here and now it's gone to hell..."

Lobster Fest

Lobster Fest is one of those events put together to fill a summer weekend in a town that needs a constant flow of visitors to survive the summer doldrums of the tourist industry. Chuck was thinking about his road trip to Maine, the place where some people say, one goes to get real lobsters, not Florida's crawfish...Chuck and Wayne weren't setting out on the road with the deliberate intent of snubbing Florida lobster, though there was a fair bit of lip smacking going on at the mention of New England lobster rolls. At our house they fortified themselves with blue corn pancakes and fruit salad and chicory coffee before their long drive Up North.After that my wife and I somehow resisted the afternoon heat and stayed home. I was going to work at 6pm, she did some work during the afternoon with fellow teacher Josh, preparing for the new school year which starts August 23rd.Cheyenne napped, exhausted from her morning walk. I played with my camera until it was time to leave. Duval Street, an hour before my shift started, was a different world. Commerce under the sun.
The Key West Citizen reported lobster fishermen in some cases decided to get their catch to the festival in an effort to get slightly higher prices. I don't mind the flavor or texture of lobster but I find it hard to get enthused about eating an animal that, left unmolested, might live 120 years. What that has to do with it, I couldn't really say, but since I found out how long these harmless, defenseless creatures live, I have found it hard to eat them. An Italian ice looked like a good idea to me.There did not seem to be vast, overwhelming crowds on Duval Street this year.There were enough people around to keep this guy amused.

The tower on Old City Hall had some competition. I prefer the tower to the bottle as a symbol of the city.

Or the bare chested cyclist, of which there were several stalwarts on hand to represent the southernmost city.I thought this sign was more than usually harsh. Not every vacationer wants to move here. The idea of the electric car as recycling bin held some appeal for me. I wish these vehicles could be allowed to drive just a tad bit faster on city streets.Happiness was beer and lobster for some. Lots of lobster.

Seen this way the poor thing looks like the alien from the movie of the same name. Creepy.

I just don't see the pleasure of standing around in the sun balancing a paper plate and struggling with bendy plastic cutlery. If it's lobster I want I would pay to sit in comfort and eat it.

I am in a minority of one in this heresy.

The dust catcher stalls lined the street.

A Key West event without a parrot (another excessively long lived animal) is not a proper event.

Lobster appeals to everyone.

St Paul's looking magnificent in the afternoon sun.

I think in a month or so Duval will be home to the swarms of Bike Week. I don't know how I will amuse myself till then.