Big Pine Henry

So I ask myself, why did they give this little street such a strange name?


Henry, the name normally given to a human is a dirt street in an area of Big Pine Key currently getting new water mains.


These days there is water in abundance, though not necessarily I'm places where humans want it or can use it.


The locals were out making good use of the impromptu ponds.


Cheyenne missed the cool overcast days from earlier in the week.


It's air conditioning time for us in our little boxes on stilts.


This little alley fronts the back of the stores in the little strip malls that line the Overseas Highway. This one doesn't want trespassers. I was glad to see the disfiguring sign because otherwise who knows what I might have done.


I am always surprised by how many businesses, mortgage brokers, small business service companies and the like make a living on these small islands.


I would not much like to live on a dirt road, dust and mud and all.


As for those pipes and spigots, they were all over the place.


The work apparently requires water to be wasted and the Obote are carefully labelled.


So what I wonder are they measuring or sampling?


So many questions. Modern water systems take a lot of work, more than we realize when we casually open our faucets and expect clean safe water to flow in abundance.



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Summer Cold Front

It lasted a few days, and seemed to take more than just me by surprise.


Cheyenne doesn't much like rain but she does like her walks.


Which pushes me out into the 75 degree afternoon to brave rain and wind and slow cautious traffic.


Around here it's worth taking a peek east and west to see where the lighter skies are. And that is where Cheyenne has a chance of a dry walk.


This is the time of year there is an abundance of puddles which is good for her as she enjoys puddle splashing when she doesn't feel thirsty.


These sort of dramatic skies make summer interesting in the Keys. Winter is a time of clear blue skies with occasional temperature dips.


Summer is the season of hurricanes and daily meteorological violence.


We huddled under the mangroves while a rain shower blew through. The rain left as quickly as it came and i fiddled with my camera settings. The world looked black and white through the lense of my little pocket camera.


Sepia looked weird.


Color looked washed out too.


I like the sumer seascapes, the "other" season in the land of perpetual summer.


Summer is the season of puddles which makes it necessary to wear rubber shoes for dog walking.


Dog walking is a rewarding activity for me.


You get to see nature in the raw...


...and see dogged persistence in action.


Cheyenne walking on the north shore of West Summerland Key.



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Dark Packer

The Flaming Buoy restaurant at one in the morning, long after bedtime.




There was a dog here howling hopelessly to be let in by the thoughtless occupants who must have been deaf or severely intoxicated not to have been awakened by the misery of their hound.




I did spot the cat lying down the sidewalk.




It ignored me and started licking it's genitals. Perhaps to send me a message. Like this irony basket:




Washing out the colors changes Key West, particularly by night:




This house is classic Key West, flag and all, not illuminated by night except by a nearby street light:




And with the colors turned on I thought it looked rather more interesting:




Packer Street looking toward Truman:




The same scene in color:




It is no longer snowbird season. I was alone for the twenty minutes I spent taking these pictures.
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Hidden Big Pine Key

If you go from Pensacola to Miami you have pretty much covered the peninsula all 700 miles of it. Except here we are on a secret subdivision of Big Pine Key.


Big Pine is the second largest key in the chain of islands, much smaller than Key Largo, but it has plenty of pine forest to hide homes in.


These back streets are as quiet as you could want even in winter and I enjoy walking my dog here.


She gets to s off the urban streets, even if the economic downturn has emptied quite a few homes.


It's bee warming up and Cheyenne isn't too excited about that so she tends to take cover under the palmettos when she needs a break.


I watched for children and saw none.


I have mixed feelings about living out here. The peace and quiet is nice.


Its a long way from a job in Key West, an hour and a quarter at least.


And the turquoise waters of the Keys are far too far away. This is rural living.


The locals worry about trespassing as though hordes of visitors are constantly tromping through the landscaping.


Cheyenne and I don't really constitute a horde. We seek out strange places for our walks together. I never meet other dog walkers here in the middle of the day.


They say the seawater temperature is close to 90 already so hurricanes will be active somewhere in the Atlantic this summer.


It's hot enough already I wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't South Florida's turn again this summer.


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Big Pine Alligator

Everybody loves to be thrilled by the sight of a dinosaur.


In the Lower Florida Keys the easiest way to spot an American Alligator is to head over to Big Pine's Blue Hole and there it sits, the replacement for Bacardi the full sized alligator that choked to death on a plastic toy, tossed in the water by a thoughtless human.


There is that elemental fear of an alligator, even a little guy less than six feet long so safety signs abound at the Blue Hole.


The turtles seem to live harmoniously enough with the big predator.


The have an odd way of sunning themselves.


Unlike that other predator in my life who prefers the shade:


All in all it's a peaceful enough spot.


A good spot to sun yourself if you are the master of your domain.


And check this fish out, courting death:


How does it know that the the alligator's larder isn't empty?


The odd thing about (fresh water) alligators and (salt water) crocodiles (found further north in the Upper Keys and Florida Bay) is that they can't chew so they have to tear meat and swallow chunks whole. This means that alligators don't kill when they are hungry, but they drown their victims and store the bodies in "pantries," holes where the bodies can be wedged until the meat is rotten enough and soft enough to be torn off in edible sized chunks.


The fact is that unless you go into the water you are safe enough at the Blue Hole.


Cheyenne accidentally went for a swim once, dropping off the stone ledge of the old quarry and splashed around in the fresh water pool. I pulled her out with superhuman strength by the scruff of her very wet neck.


Another time she slipped down to the water's edge behind my back and said hello face to face with the gator. I keep her on a tighter leash than usual after that encounter.


It's a good spot to sit and commune with wild nature.


Me, my Crocs and my dog.


The Blue Hole...


...you wouldn't know what danger lurks from looking at it.


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