It's a corner of Key West some people like to call Mid Town, between White Street and First Street, a chunk of the city located between Old and New towns.
It is an area of the southernmost city that is close to the shops and businesses of the White Street corridor but not restricted (or enhanced) by the Historic regulations of Old Town.
Cheyenne alerted a small dog inside this home to our presence and got a kick from a hairy leg for his prompt response to intruders. I find people who keep dogs and ignore them when they bark to be stupid beyond beleif. Might as well ignore your alarm when it goes off. And there's no need to be unkind to a dog doing his job.
Bicycles and palms, all Key West, all the time.
All bluff and bluster no doubt this bumper sticker. Better to speak quietly and carry a big stick as the saying goes.
I have always liked this cement walled Catherine Street home, doubtless owing to my anti-social nature, as an accidental extrovert or wayward misanthrope or even as an ironic humanitarian. Whatever it is I like my peace and quiet.
This is a normal sized picket fence in Key West, for well adjusted people i guess. 
Stairway to heaven. Possibly, or just an outdoor entrance to a high priced apartment.
The (male) voice came through the foliage: "I didn't put it there." Which changes nothing as far as I am concerned.
Home made fence suppport. My idea of sensible do-it-yourself.
There is pleasure to be had in admiring the profusion of greenery in this urban environment.
If there were any doubt, parking isn't allowed here.
That too is very Key West, every inch jealously guarded.
It is an area of the southernmost city that is close to the shops and businesses of the White Street corridor but not restricted (or enhanced) by the Historic regulations of Old Town.Cheyenne alerted a small dog inside this home to our presence and got a kick from a hairy leg for his prompt response to intruders. I find people who keep dogs and ignore them when they bark to be stupid beyond beleif. Might as well ignore your alarm when it goes off. And there's no need to be unkind to a dog doing his job.
Bicycles and palms, all Key West, all the time. 
All bluff and bluster no doubt this bumper sticker. Better to speak quietly and carry a big stick as the saying goes. 
I have always liked this cement walled Catherine Street home, doubtless owing to my anti-social nature, as an accidental extrovert or wayward misanthrope or even as an ironic humanitarian. Whatever it is I like my peace and quiet.This is a normal sized picket fence in Key West, for well adjusted people i guess. 
Stairway to heaven. Possibly, or just an outdoor entrance to a high priced apartment.The (male) voice came through the foliage: "I didn't put it there." Which changes nothing as far as I am concerned.
Home made fence suppport. My idea of sensible do-it-yourself. 
There is pleasure to be had in admiring the profusion of greenery in this urban environment. 
If there were any doubt, parking isn't allowed here.That too is very Key West, every inch jealously guarded. 
Nowadays The Meadows is a collection of pretty streets set in an easily navigated grid pattern, lined with pretty homes, plant life of all kinds and a sense that this neighborhood is a long way from Duval Street and it's bars and noise and bustle.
The Meadows appeals to me thanks to the architecture, the absence of tourist attractions and indeed the complete absence of anything even approaching an inconvenience store.
The Meadows is close to the shopping hub of Truman and White Streets on one side and the easy water access of Garrison Bight on the other. If you can't afford a canal home in the city, this is the next best thing and there are more homes here than there are homes on Riviera Canal or at Hilton Haven.
This area is not part of the Historical Architectural Review Commission so the strict building codes that are enforced on the western edge of White Street do not necessarily apply here. 
The meadows, from what I have observed is areal neighborhood with a relatively close knit community that can often be seen taking a stroll of an evening in these quiet and pleasant back streets.
Old Florida details can be found all over the place. like these shutters. 
I am an unabashed fan of central air, what can I say? 
Excessively verbose, as is often the case around here. And ugly.
I read a comment recently on Scooter in the Sticks blog quoting some "expert" who said one should never ride at night. 
Last week I had an overtime shift starting at one in the morning so I decided to take the Vespa and see if riding my wife's scooter after reading that ridiculous statement felt any different. Not so far. I made it safely two miles to the Dion's Chicken (closed!) on Summerland Key. 
Riding at night is a whole world of different sensory pleasures compared to riding in daylight. Especially in the sub tropics.
I enjoy the warm night air of summer. In daytime the temperatures have been hovering in the low to mid 90s, which I find pleasant enough. But at two in the morning the air is that much cooler, and softer on the skin. The night smells of seaweed, cut grass and the occasional night blooming flower hang over the highway. To my surprise there are a few cars passing in the night and choosing to stop in the middle of the road is an an exercise fraught with a little danger. I like the resulting picture...the ET4 in the middle of the Overseas Highway, with oncoming traffic. 
It gave me great pleasure to stop on the bridges along the Overseas Highway and look out across the dark waters of the channels, their outlines marked by mangrove islands, low and black in the night. Then I'd fire up the Vespa and take off for another blast of relatively cool air.
I read in various forums about the "improvements" people make to their machines. I have decided I'd rather ride than improve my ride. I have the greatest respect for the engineers who take a blank computer screen and create a motorcycle out of nothing more than thin air and the thoughts in their minds. From such unpromising material they put together a machine that runs and performs to exact specifications. And I want to be messing with their handiwork?
In the photo below I played with the mirror and realized the lights of Stock Island were visible in front of me. Like the other pictures in this essay I took this picture with a steady hand and set the shutter speed to compensate for the lack of light, probably a tenth of a second under the street lights.
As I rolled down a deserted North Roosevelt Boulevard into the city I noticed a heron standing on a small mangrove island fifty feet off the side of the road. I stopped the scooter in a bus stop and balanced the camera on the top case.
Across the street I saw George Carey's manatee hovering over the main street into Key West. Carey died ten days ago in West Virginia, his public statuary lives on.
A mile from work I was stopped at the lights at Kennedy and North Roosevelt and i took a quick picture through the windshield. I had no idea it was so mucky. The little round dot on the shield is the manufacturer's label. 
By the time I reached the traffic light at North Roosevelt and First Street I was almost at the Police Station. Some days on my ride in to work I catch every light on a red and my progress gets very herky jerky. Other days the lights are all green and I progress like royalty.
And then, finally, forty minutes from home, there appears the pink rotunda in front of the Police Station. Home from home, and the blessings of overtime. It's hard to believe that in these economically depressed times I have access to overtime, however not enough capable people want to dispatch in party town USA so we few, we happy few, get to do all the work. A happy band of dispatchers.
If anyone tells you riding at night is anything other than pure pleasure tell them they're quite wrong. At least that's what my experience tells me.