A sunny day in the Lower Keys, which as we know is nothing to boast about, as we have so many of them. I was at home and wanted to get out of the house (this was before Cheyenne came into our lives) so I did using the wife's Vespa ET4 as the getaway vehicle. Crane Boulevard turns north from the Overseas Highway at the traffic light by Sugarloaf Middle School and after cruising through a subdivision of side streets stops right here:
There is a helpful sign with myriad instructions for use of the refuge:
Basically you can't camp, light fires, shoot things or walk your dog off a leash once you get past the barrier. There was a movement a while back to tear up the remainder of Crane Boulevard but a whole bunch of people got their knickers in a twist and protested and the asphalt remains available to walkers and cyclists.
Crane Boulevard stretches a couple of miles into the wilderness, dead ending in the middle of nowhere. The last time i came, last winter that was, I rode my bicycle out here because that is the sensible thing to do on a long straight stretch of road. This time I wanted to walk and take pictures, so I did:
This bird stopped off briefly at the very limit of my camera's zoom magnification. I think it was a heron:
There is a helpful sign with myriad instructions for use of the refuge:Basically you can't camp, light fires, shoot things or walk your dog off a leash once you get past the barrier. There was a movement a while back to tear up the remainder of Crane Boulevard but a whole bunch of people got their knickers in a twist and protested and the asphalt remains available to walkers and cyclists.Crane Boulevard stretches a couple of miles into the wilderness, dead ending in the middle of nowhere. The last time i came, last winter that was, I rode my bicycle out here because that is the sensible thing to do on a long straight stretch of road. This time I wanted to walk and take pictures, so I did:
This bird stopped off briefly at the very limit of my camera's zoom magnification. I think it was a heron:
I was walking smartly along when I heard a swooshing sound behind me. He waved gaily, she kept her helmeted head firmly down and swept past without so much as cracking a grin, or twitching an eyebrow in passing acknowledgement.
Nature abhors a vacuum, we a re told, and this empty roadway must be starting to look like a vacuum because plants are growing in from the edges:
Of course humans abhor a pristine wilderness so when I strode off down a short path I immediately came across this piece of mechanical civilization discarded in the bushes:
There were some pine trees further up, rather spindly of course, as befits an island with very little actual dirt.
And I found some mysterious fence posts lining just one side of the road. Without any actual fencing.
This puddle was covering a two lane track, as though made by a vehicle which led off tantalizingly into the bushes.
And then I spotted this long faded sign on a long dead pine tree. I started to feel like an archaeologist trying to interpret signs from a long dormant past.
And there they were coming back around the corner, pedaling firmly along:
After they made their silent way past me I slipped off down another side track and came across what looked like a series of petrified cow pats. I think they were just rocks of some sort.
And wasn't I surprised to come across a rain gauge, one that hadn't been emptied in a while apparently:
Clouds were building over the wilderness and an east wind sprang up suddenly. Perhaps I was disturbing sleeping spirits or more likely the weather pattern was changing. I turned back.
I doubt I got more than halfway down the two-mile length of the pedestrian portion of Crane Boulevard.
It was a good way to get out of the house, a pleasant walk, and a fine ride home.
We got a call from a friend, her husband was playing at the Green Parrot Bar on the corner of Southard and Whitehead Streets. It makes all sorts of claims, the oldest bar in Florida, the first and last bar because of it's proximity to the Mile Marker Zero sign, and so forth. It boasts no air conditioning and lots of musical acts. A combination that makes it fortuitous I don't live nearby.
Lots of people everywhere. 
The reason we were here was to see a woman sing. She was celebrating her 90th birthday, feat enough for most of us but the remarkable Norma Miller celebrated her birthday with some jokes, some singing and astonished the audience with her vivacity and sheer physical strength. She cussed and joked ("I put my teeth on the night stand, I put my wig on the night stand, I put my titties on the night stand- he don't know whether to jump on the night stand or jump into bed!" gave me a rather startling appreciation for the vicissitudes of old age). My only photograph of this remarkable woman left a lot to be desired and my best efforts to brighten it up barely do her justice. She was, in my defense, the center of a very large crowd of attentive fans:
Space opened up, a little, with Miller's disappearance...
Bar people enjoying The Life in Key West Florida.
I had a ways to go...
...but the women were still nattering, until finally we discovered it was time to go.
I was surprised by the demographics of the people I saw in the bar, mostly older perhaps a function of the music or the time. Apparently the music is brought forward to an earlier time to accommodate the sleep patterns of the older generation. It worked for me, I was home and supping soup before 7:30. With a glass of mineral water as I had had my quota of alcohol for the day, old man that I am. I make an appalling barfly. 
They are trying to raise five million bucks to build a hurricane proof air conditioned shelter here on Stock Island and they do a great job with what they have, cobbled together pens and kennels and a surprising amount of love: 
Volunteers walk the dogs and spend time with them. Cats roam free in a large cage, if they are suitable for the communal experience while some of the dogs get to hang together in groups and play madly. Cheyenne was alone in her pen when I arrived:
Neither of us needed it but we got a get-to-know-you-walk together and she was as ready to go home as I was.
She's a cheerful dog, wagging her tale on her way to saying goodbye to her former fellow 
Cathy checked me out and told me about her issues, the usual skin problems caused mostly I suspect by stress, ears itching and so forth. No big deal. She was spayed by the pound (eight years old and not previously spayed- who are these idiot people who dare to own dogs?) and she got a vet's check out before being put up for adoption. No 
Before we could leave my wife had to come by and bond with the dog so the SPCA is sure the animal would be compatible in the home. They checked county records to be sure I owned my house, and then all the shelter workers came by to say good bye to their favorite Labrador and we were off.
The plan was to take a quick walk, go home and relax. The day did not go as planned. Cheyenne walked straight to the car and climbed into the back seat like a pro. This was going to be easy I said to myself.
We stopped by Little 
She rides like a dog raised to be in a car, settled in the back seat, never bothering me at the wheel. I left her to do a little light shopping (brushes, bowls, some food etc...) and she sat quietly in the car while I was gone. It was heartwarming to come back to the car and see the little yellow head peering out looking for me.
Noel thought the water was too cold so I had to explain a little about the Labrador 
...before settling down for a nap while I did the 
It's pure speculation on my part and I 
I am a lot less fanatical than some about what a dog puts in their mouth. Emma, my last Labrador sailed with us through central America along with our husky mix. They ate anything and everything they could find in every harbor we stopped in, and along every beach. Chocolate, chicken, greasy nastiness, whatever they found they ate and no way was I sticking my hand in their mouths. I met 
The last I saw of her before I went in to work for some late night overtime was a big yellow mound next to my wife's shape under the covers. She stopped snoring a moment and 
I won! No, my wife and I both won! No the SPCA won! No really, Cheyenne won the lottery (look at her on the bed for confirmation). Now we just need to figure out a new name.