Seeing Red

I suddenly noticed there were splashes of red everywhere on the streets.


What could I do but record them for posterity?











Much of the red is in the ubiquitous bougainvillea.


Then there is the human-made red decoration


And across the street the first public library opened in Florida.


It's not quite red but I decided pink was close enough.




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Key West Flora

Of course I loved the word on the wall, but seeing Cheyenne give it her all made me think this spot might be a dog toilet which took away a little of the charm.


Happily Cheyenne subscribes to my approach which is to pass on through, take pictures or smells away with us and leave no trace of our passing, so she is never moved to mark her turf like so many dogs feel compelled to do by cocking a leg. But she does like sniffing other dogs' marks.


It's very hard for me to walk this streets and not look around to find a picture worth taking.


Most places in this country the season for blooms and blossoms is long past but down here it is just getting started.


Palms are always flourishing.


And bougainvillea is swamping streets and gardens everywhere in the Keys.


Even a trim white picket fence serves as a restraint to the burgeoning fecundity behind it. This may be winter, technically, but stuff is growing!


This orange expansion is chemical not organic. But it looked good in the afternoon sunlight.


Everything is bursting beyond it's limits this December.

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Strange Scooter

I came across this unusual ride in Key Lime Square.


It appeared to be a water-cooled Chinese scooter though of what capacity I couldn't tell, but judging by the sophisticated water cooled cylinder and the huge exhaust I hoped it was something larger than just 50cc. The speedometer was digital so I couldn't tell what top speed could be hoped for. None of the numerous stickers indicated an engine size either.


Aside from that mystery this CPI looked fabulous, with it's tubular external frame, sporty riding position and total lack of urban practicality.


What every wild eyed youngster, such as I once was, needs to ride. Whatever it is.


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Pink Crocs

I have been living with orange footwear for a while unable as I was to locate fuchsia Crocs in size 12 for my plates of beef. Then the miracle happened and a new pair of Crocs arrived in the mail some time ago. Finally my orange footwear wore out and it was time to dump the old and don the new. Which was when Cheyenne decided to occupy the picture.


Amanda of BVI Blog read of my plight and scored a pair by mail order from her Caribbean perch. Most generous I'm sure.


And entirely comfortable even during a damp cold front:


The whole story explaining why a walking fashion faux pas.
like myself wears only pink Crocs is rather tedious. Suffice it today my wife issued a challenge and I rose to the occasion and I am stuck with the footwear as a result.



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Flaming Maggie

It's puerile I know but this alteration to a perfectly good road sign makes me laugh. Not least because the Island House is the building round the corner. Vive la différence


Fleming Street is named for one of the four Americans who bought the island from Juan Salas who had it endowed to him by the King of Spain. John Fleeming (sic) lives on remembered by some of us when we ride this street. That there used to be a gay bookstore on Fleming at Margaret gave me the idea for title of this post.




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Circling Jabours

The development boom killed off one the curious hold overs from another era downtown. It was called Jabours Trailer Park and it lived in what is currently a weedy lot between Elizabeth and Caroline Streets and the waterfront.


This picturesque view is up Dey Street off Elizabeth and has nothing to do with the open space I was walking around one recent evening.


Jabours was the city's only transient RV campground, hidden by fences and trees it offered lots for between 50 and 80 dollars a night, I'm told, just two steps away from Lazy Way Lane and the waterfront. What a deal!


It happened that land prices were sky rocketing and some keen local lads thought that turning this little RV idyll into a bunch of expensive town homes would be a good idea. The land bubble burst prematurely and all that got built was one model home. Jabours got out with a wad of cash, and the RV fantasy parking lot vanished forever.


Schooner Wharf's denizens started to worry that the town home gentrification plan would bring in a bunch of residents who would object to the live music that is a staple at the landmark drinking hole. All that worry was for nothing as it turned out.


I was attracted by the sign in the window at the dust catcher store further up the lane. Free coins? Lucky they were closed else who knows what I might have gone home with...


The Western Onion was off flogging the sunset to punters in the harbor. Ho ho ho, the hole it left at the dock looked very festive all the same.


And looking across the old trailer park we observe the back of the buildings on Caroline.


The missed and lamented Waterfront Market still sits empty. Plans mooted for a brew pub and restaurant or a bowling alley have come to naught so far.


And back across the lot another glance reveals the bright lights of Schooner Wharf, rocking into the cold night air.


There are some vague hopes expressed the open space might become a park. I'm not holding my breath but I wouldn't mind that at all. I very much doubt RVs will ever return.



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