One picture is worth

Ok. Time to roll this page forward.

I'm very distracted at the moment. We leave for China in just over a week and everyday I'm running around doing errands so tonight I have little tolerance for words although I have spent an absurd amount of time fussing over these few. It must end. Here are some photos instead. 

Mr. Leo discovers Florida
and an egret in the Century Plant
Summer 2013

Those are Frankie's feet in the lower right hand corner.

Bird on the Century Plant

Leo in the fronds

Meeting the mammoth of long ago

Father, son and the sea

This is how we do it

Winds of Change....

CORRECTION: It has been called to my attention that, according to Snopes, Warren Buffet did not write this Act though he did inspire it. Sorry. I should have checked myself. You know what they say about something being "too good to be true". Anyway, it's still a good idea. Of course, getting Congress to pass it would be...well...you know, impossible.


*Congressional Reform Act of 2013*

1. No Tenure / No Pension. A Congressman/woman collects a salary while in office and receives no pay when they're out of office.

2. Congress (past, present & future) participates in Social Security. All funds in the Congressional retirement fund move to the Social Security system immediately. All future funds flow into the Social Security system, and Congress participates with the American people. It may not be used for any other purpose.

3. Congress can purchase their own retirement plan, just as all Americans do.

4. Congress will no longer vote themselves a pay raise.Congressional pay will rise by the lower of CPI or 3%.

5. Congress loses their current health care system and participates in the same health care system as the American people.

6. Congress must equally abide by all laws they impose on the American people.

7. All contracts with past and present Congressmen/women are void effective 12/31/13. The American people did not make this contract with Congressmen/women. Congressmen/women made all these contracts for themselves. Serving in Congress is an honor, not a career. The Founding Fathers envisioned citizen legislators, so ours should serve their term(s), then go home and back to work. 

If each person contacts a minimum of twenty people then it will only take three days for most people (in the U.S. ) to receive the message. Don't you think it's time?


But what the hell? Pass it on.

A journey of 3000 miles ends here.

Home.

At least for a few days. We got back on Sunday but I've been running ever since getting ready to leave again in two weeks for China. But yes. The Seven O'clock Magpie did show up Monday morning, 7 am. We've been gone since spring but that bird never gave up. She keeps coming back. She knows the minute I get home there will be peanuts.

Notes along the way

Alachua temple

Stopped at the Hare Krishna Temple in Alachua yesterday. Had a brief but nice chat with a couple who live there. They are second generation devotees. In other words, they were born in the movement. Like the devotees in New Vrindaban, they were quick to acknowledge New Vrindaban's bad old days during the '70s. That's the period my kids and I lived there.

Cool Al's code. Behave or leave.

We are in Jackson Mississippi tonight. Had dinner at Cool Al's. It's a burger joint but one of the only places in town that offers vegetarian and vegan food. We both had the Jamaican Burger and sweet potato fries. Fantastic. Four stars.

Tomorrow's destination: Amarillo Texas, about a 700 mile drive. With lunch and stops it will be a 13 or 14 hour day.

It begins

A journey of 2800 miles begins with the first step.

The last of it

Rainy day on Alligator Creek.

There was an all night frog symphony last night on Alligator Creek. It was stupendous but forget about sleep. That giant sprawling tropical plant to the right of our poor little flood-locked mailbox is the frog palace/opera house. It's been raining like hell since yesterday. The drops are so big they're blops. And yes, thunder is rattling the house and the lightning is way too close. It's very unnerving since I learned that lightning can strike twice. I even heard about one guy around here whose house was hit three separate times. Once is enough! Everyone is laying low, even the lizards. I guess it's better that way. We leave in the morning. No more good-byes. I would like to say good-bye to the Gulf but it doesn't look like that's going to happen. I'm not done packing but this is the last of it. The hard part. The details. Then I'll clear out the screen porch where I spent all the lovely, buzzy evenings of summer, the sweetest with family, and that will be that. Done.

The last of it.

It wasn't much of a squirrel party this year but, hey, nobody died. I stuck to putting out peanuts and bird seed only in the morning and evening instead of randomly all day. A hawk did drop by now and then but the yard never became the big hunting ground like before. And, things being quieter, I had a chance to try out a little squirrel whispering on Dd. If you remember, she was the first one to show up after we arrived. I know. It sounds absurd, but actually it's not. Horses, squirrels, even people...the same principles work for everyone. Too bad I'm out of time. It was just beginning to get interesting.

One last screen porch wildlife rescue.

Mockingbird Arias for Autumn

It's a warm, sunny morning here on Alligator Creek and just this moment a mockingbird, perched on a frond in Frida Kahlo's pineapple palm, is singing her wild heart out. She's doing it all, from "Pretty Bird" to never-to-be-written Arias, one replacing the other with equal speed. Today is the Autumn Equinox, that brief moment when light and dark are equal. Now the days grow shorter and the night long.

Snoring bird

A bird is snoring somewhere out along Alligator Creek tonight. It's a soft chittering sound. Maybe birds don't snore. I don't know. I don't care. In my mind's eye I see a bird napping in the mangroves, head resting on its chest, beak nestled in its feathers, snoring away under the remnant of this year's Harvest Moon. Even two nights later, it was about the biggest, orangest moonrise I've ever seen. I wonder if birds dream about the moon.

Voices in the night

Tin can voice bug is quiet tonight for the first time in a couple of months. I miss him. However the frogs are chatting away about the nearly full moon and the wet cool night. They don't croak like other frogs I've heard. Still their rubbery-voiced, wet bellows conversation in squeaks, trills and purrs is delightful. This is the second to the last Wednesday before we leave so, starting tomorrow, everyday for the next week will be our last.

The Scarecrow

There's something interesting going on with Chipotle. They are blending business and bio-ethics. Not a first but a good video. If you haven't seen it yet, check it out.

Back to forward

Now the family has come and gone and it feels pretty empty around here. Even the light feels empty, as it does when the sun is in sidereal Leo. But the bug or frog or whoever it is who croaks like a stick drumming on a tin can is singing in the mangroves tonight and in just over a week we drive back to Nevada and, shortly after that, leave for China. These are the good old days but I never want to forget how it used to be staring out the window at a dead end world.

Life at the beach

Holy cow! I'm so in the rears with this thing. Life is streaming by. Something must be said of the days past. They were good. We walked on the beach early the other morning and came upon the Turtle Patrol checking on a loggerhead nest. In this particular nest most of the babies had already hatched but this morning three were struggling to the surface.

The sun was fully risen. The birds were out. A very dangerous time. Thea, Kristiana and I joined a small group of beach goers helping the volunteers protect the hatch-lings on their long journey to the nearby sea. Two of the babies were still a bit misshapen from their time in the egg. One had a lagging flipper, the other a slight hourglass shape to its shell. We, the human shield, guarded them as they struggled over clumps of sea grass left by the night's high tide. They labored up, down and across valleys of footprints in the sand. The first one sprinted across the wet shore and disappeared under the waves accompanied by cheers and camera flashes. The seagulls were far down the beach but, as just to be safe, one of the men in our group followed it into the water to ward off any possible death from above. It didn't matter. Baby One swam out and, as if from a secret fold in the universe, seagulls appeared and snatched it up and away in spite of our mad waving and shouting.

Just then Baby Two reached the sea and swam out into the waves. This time we were ready and determined to ward off the ravenous gulls. We waved and shouted at the sky. The guy in the water jumped and splashed. Baby Two was snatched up anyway. An aerial battle ensued, seagull on seagull, dive bombing, screeching, dipping, twisting. Baby Two dropped back into the water to more cheers and sudden hopes. It didn't matter. A seagull swooped down and claimed our darling and the battle resumed, rolling down the beach like a storm.

Baby Three continued its perilous journey toward the waves. Generally loggerhead hatchlings emerge from their nests in the sand at night when it's cool and the birds are asleep so, at this point, the Turtle Patrol intervened. They scooped it up into protective custody with a promise to all they'd return in the dark and release it to its fate in the sea.

Police fury

Congratulations to the DOJ for their recent decision to allow the states to create a regime that would regulate and implement the ballot initiatives that legalized the use of marijuana for adults. Predictably, police organizations are up in arms. Guess what boys. Prohibition doesn't work. Never has. Never will. We know it and so do you.

I, for one, don't want the police state this "war" has created. The United States has less than 5 % of the world's population but has almost 25% of the world's prisoners and keeps them incarcerated longer than than other nations.  

Just as the unlimited cold hard cash  from alcohol prohibition gave rise to the mafia, the richer-than-God profits generated by this cash cow "drug war" gave rise to the cartels and funds the quasi-military police state that is developing in the country. The UN estimates that the drug market in America alone is worth 60 billion dollars. At this point police have grown very fond of the gobs of dirty money they keep for themselves. Time to gut the profit all around. Money, power and prestige corrupts everything it touches on both sides of the law.

Source: Police Groups Furiously Protest Eric Holder's Marijuana Policy Announcement

Alligators!!!

Being west coasters, alligators are to us mythical as fire-breathing dragons. Seeing one is a top priority. Apparently around here, the two best places for sightings is in ponds at golf courses and Myakka State Park. So, when my son and his family were here two weeks ago, we went to the park.

Unfortunately, that day we only saw one, a baby who hangs out in the lily pads at the beginning of the boardwalk. He was very cool but not The Sighting we'd hoped for. Not the ominous, cold-blooded monster gliding through the reflections of clouds on the water. But the little guy was cool. Leo was intrigued but Frank, being a year, wasn't too taken one way or the other.

It must be a guy thing. They were both much more impressed with the power of the jungle vine and prospects of swinging through the trees on it.

We took Thea and her parents to the park yesterday. We didn't make it to the vine but we had much better luck with the alligators. Altogether we saw 10! The baby was still hanging out by the boardwalk and we saw nine others, big ones cruising the river in classic alligator fashion, indomitable Masters of the Domain.



But the baby was the best of all.

Aftermath and arrivals

Thanks to Laura, our very cool landlord who OKed everything, and M. Lee's quick action, there were three repair guys out here today and they fixed nearly all the damage from the lightning strike the other night. I'm really grateful. Internet, A/C, TV and the garage door are working again and she approved a new stove. That will take a few days to arrange, but basically we're ready for Thea and her parents to arrive. And just in time. If their plane is on schedule, they are minutes away from landing at Tampa International. We wanted to be at the gate to greet them but simplicity prevailed. We rented them a car, which they'll pick up at the airport, then they'll drive themselves here with the GPS. They should get in sometime after 02:00. Like Leo and Frank a couple of weeks ago, this is Thea's first really different environment and first warm ocean!

Awestruck

From the screen porch it looks like a candle casting flickering light on the ceiling. From another room it looks like a glowing blue faerie imprisoned in a lantern covered by a cloth. It's the fried modem blinking on top of the dead TV, both left awestruck by the visitation of last night's lightning and it's mind-numbing EMP. It doesn't matter about the TV but we need the cable for internet. That does matter. And it would be nice to have A/C when Thea Bella and her parents arrive tomorrow. M. Lee opened the screen porch sliding door today and all the windows to cool off the house. They will be open until the A/C gets fixed. It's nice. Welcome to Real Florida, chillins.

Blasted

19:30 GMT
Just now Swami, Minerva and I had to come in from the screen porch. Rain is getting my laptop wet. This is only the second evening since getting to Florida that we've been inside. I don't like it a bit I can't afford to ruin another computer.

21:59 GMT
I'm posting this from my phone. It's very quiet around the house now. M. Lee is getting up early to do a Metric Century so he's already sleeping. Swami, Minerva and I are still inside. The storm fried the router and the modem so no internet. It was fast and furious.

A low pressure center settled over Cancun, squished the topical storm brewing there and spewed it out over the Gulf, or so says Weather Underground. A wisp of that must have made it up to Alligator Creek. Something did anyway. And it dropped two, count them.....ONE.....TWO..... bolts of lightning right on our little cracker shack. Holy FUCKING GOD!

The house is on stilts and the lightning dropped below the upper level. I swear I saw it possess my computer screen for a moment. I know that's impossible but my new theory about lightning is that, like rainbows, it has an aura surrounding it as well as being the "thing" we see with our primate vision. Anyway...TWO...

BAM!!! BAM!!!

My teeth could have exploded right out of my head and it wouldn't have shocked me more. There was only enough time after the first blast to babble and huddle together before the second bomb exploded somewhere between us and Frieda's Pineapple Palm (which touches the house). Did I say Holy Fucking God?

And then it was over but for the rumbling and the rain. Now frogs are happily croaking outside in the lagoon otherwise known as the lawn.

Aftermath

Great thunder tonight. One round cracked so hard the chair my legs are resting on vibrated. Now it's rolling by high above like a long jumbled tumbling afterthought. I love it. The downpour has turned to light rain and the mist that was blowing over me as I sit here on the screen porch has stopped. Occasionally a seabird squawks by. I can't bring myself to go in. Lightning is still making a black silhouette of the trees along the creek. It's much cooler tonight. The little critter out in the mangroves who sounds like he's playing a tin can with a stick has started up again and there are fewer, smaller tiny winged creatures crawling around my computer screen.

New old poem

I posted a new poem at annasadhorse tonight, Epitaph. This makes 27 to date that I've posted there. As with the others, this one is not new, just new to the site. I wrote it 25 years ago. I've never submitted it anywhere but I read it on the radio and at poetry readings. I was living in Ashland, Oregon at the time, a theater town and good place for poets. It's where I founded SkyRiver Press, but that's another story and it's late.

Onshore wind

The onshore wind, laden with the chemical fragrances of all the creams, blocks, sprays, lotions, deodorants and perfumes wafting from the beach goers, burns in the back of my throat as I sit in the shade at the edge of the beach waiting for the bridge over the ICW to go back down. Not the worst of problems but, while posting this, they let some traffic through then stopped it again so I still can't get off the island. Now a repair truck has arrived and guys are working on the traffic light. At this point, cars line the ramp and the road leading up to it. OK. Seems it's fixed. Bridge going down. I'm on my bike. Gotta make a run for it.

Hello and good-bye

The family visit went ALL TOO FAST! Misters Leo and Frank and parents are leaving today.

Leo munching a tasty
peanut butter sandwich at the beach

We had the best time. And damn it went fast! There were many firsts; swimming in the warm Gulf, taking the ferry, seeing a baby alligator, eating positively delicious mangoes from Mango Jacks...

Frank says NO to hats! He won.

...hearing grown-up alligators talk to each other during the heat of the day. I even got to see Mr. Frank brush his own teeth for the first time.

News at 8:01 AM

The gods mock me.
My bday fortune from
the Chinese buffet

Yikes! It's August 2nd already. My birthday. Don't even ask. Anyway....extra peanuts for all...and seeds. There are now a fair number of tiny little Doves visiting Frida's Palm Cafe on a regular basis and several bright red Cardinals, many Red Wing Blackbirds and maybe even a Northern Mockingbird now and then. That's the official state bird of Florida although, clearly, the state bird of Florida should be the Giant Wood Stork. Come on, Florida. Live a little.

I'm way behind in the news here. Haven't even mentioned that I read poetry at the Sarasota Writer's Group in July. Now the tiny town of Nokomis goes on the World Tour list. Nice people. Some good writers. Each reader is allotted a whopping 10 minutes to do with as they will. Most were novelists reading from works in progress or their books newly minted via Amazon's CreateSpace. They all seem to go for the glossy photo covers, which I don't care for, otherwise Amazon does a great print job. Doing a book of poems that way is on my short list.

Snooty the Manatee celebrated his 65th Birthday
with a tower of fruit last week
as the Ancients sang Happy Birthday.

The Big News around here is that tomorrow Misters Leo (age 4) and Frank (age 1) arrive with, as Kristiana and M. Lee say, their handlers. So here's to a week of fun at the beach plus a few extras like a visit to Snooty the resident Manatee at the South Florida Museum. Snooty was born at the Miami Aquarium when his mother was there recuperating. Eventually she returned to the wild but, for whatever reason, Snooty remained behind and has spent his entire life in captivity, a sad fate. I hate seeing any animal confined to a zoo, circus, aquarium or whatever but they do serve to teach us humans the enormously important fact that other life forms live on this planet and deserve our respect and protection. And Leo is going to love this guy!

Misters Leo and Frank

So Venice Florida, collectively having the oldest population in America, has the grandkid thing all sorted out. Tomorrow I pick up the baby gear at A to Z Rentals. They have it all, high chairs and potty chairs to strollers, kid's bikes and even the family beach cabana so we will be set then the family arrives in the evening. More to come.

Sunday bull session

Billy the Kid
via wikipedia

It's a lovely day here on Alligator Creek, breezy and hot, about 90° on the screen porch. I have the fan on. I'm drenched but I don't care. I guess I'm acclimated. Across the street, Sonny Boy is holding forth on his screen porch in that booming, gravely voice of his. I catch snippets.

"You gotta have heart. That's what I put on the internet too. You gotta have heart."

"......my daughter, her own cousin says, what a beautiful Italian woman."

He's talking to his dad, who occasionally injects a nearly inaudible but definitely gravely grunt or comment of his own. I can't see them. Palm fronds block the view, as does their screen and the perpetual shadow, as their porch faces north. But I can hear bits of what he's saying over the whir of my fan, the wind in the palms, little seaplanes buzzing up and down the coast, cars whooshing on the nearby road that skirts the ICW... bits and pieces....

"I read the whole biography of Billy the Kid the other day... Died on July 14th, 1881. 21 years-old. Blue-eyed. Weighed 120 lbs... The first time he went to jail he escaped... Went to Arizona on a horse, alone.... Went to New York on a horse, alone.... Mexico, on a horse.... alone.... before he was 21.... He was in the desert by himself.... He had to go to to the Indians.

He has (Yes. He said "has") some brains.... Five hundred miles of desert.... You know his mother was an immigrant... Came over on a boat from Ireland... His mother died when he was 15.... 15... so he started runnin around... got in trouble, whatever... his step-father didn't want nothin to do with him so he went out west... He looked at Florida and said "what the hell?"

Later he switched to personal reflections.

Kewpie doll
via wikipedia

"They had a kwepie doll, know what I mean?... I lost everything I had....bowls, furniture, my gun, everything.... Left me in a little bit of shit.... But anyways, I was packing up to leave, the house was full of crabs and fleas. I had no vehicle, no money, my social security check was cut off..."

Then Mom returned from the ravioli run.

"What the hell is this? Who wrecked this chair? What the hell happened here?"

 Sonny Boy,

 "I put tape over it."

 And thus ended the Sunday bull session.

--------------------------------------------------------

And, besides doing this post and going to the beach for while today, I redesigned my poetry site, annasadhorse, and added a new piece titled Music Theory.

Doing lunch with the big birds

Florida. Gotta love it.

Can I has a take out please?

Well, helloooo there!

Mmmmm, what have we here?

Yes, I can has fried 'tatoes.

Nom nom nom

Morning quiz

Morning and it's already raining. This could get interesting. The highest elevation in Florida is 345 feet. That's up in the panhandle. Around here it's about an inch. Well, I exaggerate but not by much. We went on a bike ride yesterday. The labyrinth of canals, creeks, ponds and ditches that hem in the human habitat here is full to the brim.

Which brings us to the morning quiz. "Why did the ICW cross the road?"

Ok. Here's question two. Where the hell is Sonny Boy?

I'll answer that one. He's inside watching TV or something.

Question three. So why is his ancient Dad out sweeping up the rain?

Beach walk

Gulf sunset

There's a ray of light when the setting sun hits a certain declination on the horizon. It only lasts a moment. Some say there's a green flash. I've never seen it. But just now, light from the sun setting out over the Gulf suddenly, for a moment, flared orange through the tops of the trees along Alligator Creek casting the world and the screen porch under its spell.

We took the South Venice ferry to Manasota Key this afternoon. It's a short ride across the Intracoastal Waterway but the only direct access to Sunset beach. Otherwise, its a long walk on the shore to get there so it's a pretty quiet spot. The ferry pass comes with the house we're renting. It's a cool little boat. We took it a lot when we were here a couple of summers ago but today was only our second trip this time, even though we've already been here a month. It has been unseasonably rainy, torrential and unpredictable, so we've been driving to other beaches. However, today we thought we could beat the rain. We figured wrong.

Sea turtle nests and blooming century plants

From the ferry landing, a wooden walkway goes through the mangrove and palm forest to the Gulf side of the Key, From there we walked north and were so engrossed looking for shark's teeth (both of us) and heart rocks (me), being amazed at all the sea turtle nests staked and marked by the Turtle Patrol, what storm surges have done to the shore, commenting on birds, admiring the giant pelican drying her wings in the wind in the top of a tree, admiring the jungle of native foliage and trying to not stare at the gay men in teeny thongs who make this otherwise deserted stretch their rendezvous that we failed to notice the giant, black storm clouds gathering behind us. When we did, we were a couple of miles away from the ferry.

We started back and the wind came up, and with it stinging sand, so we bent our heads down and pushed into it, pulling our hats further and then further over our eyes. Next came the rain, in tropical torrents. By the time we got back to Sunset beach it was deserted. We made for the walkway and hurried across the Key back to the ferry landing. No boat, no phone, nowhere to go, so we sat on the walkway in the rain.

This may all sound very bad but actually it wasn't. I went back to the Gulf to see once more the beach shrouded by the squall. For this moment, this storm, there was nothing and no one (well, except me) in the gray and rain marring the solitude. Empty. And baby turtles gestating in their eggs deep within the sand by the sea. The way it always was. The beach and I were wild again. I stood watching sheets of rain whipping westward over the Gulf, blown by offshore winds, then I went back up the stairs and across the Key to the east, to wait with M. Lee for the ferry, which did come back for us after all.

Senor Raindrop

Some little fellow whose love song sounds like the drip of crazy giant-size raindrops on an amplified tin can has been wandering around the mangroves singing his heart out tonight. It's kind of sad but fits right into the night chorus of buzzing, trilling and croaking that goes on here at the end of the road.

As usual, I'm sitting on the screen porch in the dark. When I'm home, I practically live out here. I love it. I have my corner, table, chair and laptop. Dd the squirrel sometimes drops by in the afternoon for a visit. The screen's between us, but probably best that way. I hate going indoors. Basically, I only go in to bathe and sleep. Well, I go in for our nightly mango party, my favorite. And we do eat a meal together now and then, that's indoors. Mostly we eat over our keyboards. We're feral.

Earlier in the evening, Senor Raindrop (it's late. whatdayawant?) held his song to a monotonous drip ...drip ...drip tempo but, finally, after about three hours of that, he changed it up. He added a rapid dripdripdripdripdrip followed by a slow ........drip ........drip ........drip ........ followed by silence ........ (I assume he's listening) ........ then he begins again with the original mid-tempo and repeats. He's also moving around a lot and, as the night deepens, getting further and further away. Right now he's quiet. It's a big, lonely world out there.

Mango Party!

Alligator Creek in pending rain at sunset

After stocking up on mangoes last Saturday, we had high hopes for the week but things got off to a rough start. Maggots. Our little plan to "follow the mango" sounds great, is great, but like everything else, you can't walk the walk without paying some dues. You want to go to the tree and gather in your own hands it's sweet, ripe fruit? Then you're going to pay some dues.

Mango Party!

Every night we have a mango party here on Alligator Creek. M. Lee halves two mangoes and it's a go. We start by gnawing the pits clean then move on to the custardy goodness of the mango itself. Only last Tuesday, one of the mangoes had a soft spot. Still, being newbies in the world of mangoes, we ignored it until M. Lee noticed that there were little squiggly things in the lovely orange flesh of the half mango cupped in his hands. Maaaaaaaggots! Okay. It was traumatic! Horrifying! Stupefying! Revolting! And for a brief moment, I feared that the dark shadow of trauma would taint my love of mangoes forever but come on! You can't let a few maggots get you down. They're going to win anyway. You know. In the end. It's not the mango's fault. It was a hard moment though. Our faith in Jack wavered, but only briefly. I'm sure he had a maggot or two in a mango now and then by the time he reached his feisty old age. Here's the deal. We've gotten lots of mangoes from the Mango Factory and they are, hands down, the sweetest, tastiest, most delicious mangoes around. So this one was overripe. No big deal. And besides, I wouldn't want a mango that a maggot wouldn't eat. I just want to get to it first.

Nightly no frills mango party

So, as the week rolled on, we got back into the spirit of things, slowly at first but we're back to full steam, though I do look now, something I never did in the past. I'm sure Jack looked too. It comes with the territory.

Tulips

"Before they came the air was calm enough,
Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss.
Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.
Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river....."
(excerpt from "Tulips" by Sylvia Plath)

This via Buzzfeed via Brain Pickings. Sylvia Plath reading her poem "Tulips".


I did not realize she was also an artist.

Insect conversation

Insect slow call and answer in monotone rhythm across the brackish swamp tonight. It is soothing, this conversation, in spite of the hollow whoosh of traffic. I wish the humans would just sit down and shut up.

As July deepens

We went to The Mango Factory out on Pine Island again today, Jack's mangoes. When it comes to growing mangoes, Jack made it an art. Back in '64 he planted his seedlings 33 ft. apart so that, full grown, each tree would enjoy full light. Today they're the best on the island. Hell. I'll say it. Best in the world, though we are dedicated to putting that idea to the test. So, with that in mind, we came home with a couple of bags of big, right off the tree, mangoes. Should last the week. Thanks, Jack.

Mango Jack.
What's not to love about this guy?
(picture on the wall at the Mango Factory)

Floridians are funny. Seems a lot of them don't much care for mangoes. Must be those shady backyard homegrowns. Anyway, there was a  good old boy and his wife also at the Mango Factory today. She was walking around the bins, basket on her hip, obviously excited to be at the source while he followed behind, arms folded across his chest, chin tucked down. She'd hold up a mango for his approval and he'd mutter, "I dunno", "You decide", or "I'm not gonna eat 'em". But there was also a fellow there from the Caribbean. He had the Eye. Lucky we got there when we did. Like us, he was stocking up.

Finally a couple of Ibises came by.
They like to graze the grass after a good rain.

As far as life on Alligator Creek is going, DD (Diego's Daughter) the squirrel and I have a nice little thing going but it's very low key. As you may recall, last time we were here, my everyday, all day peanut party turned tragic when the hawk noticed it so this time I'm doing things differently. DD has breakfast, a few peanuts, and that's it until late afternoon. At that point, if I'm on the screen porch, she comes up, looks me in the eye, quietly chitters a bit then goes back down, I follow, put a few peanuts around the Pineapple Palm, refresh the seed for the doves, and that's that. Simple. One other squirrel occasionally drops by which turns immediately into a skirmish but otherwise we have a quiet little scene going. Much as I'd like to be all things to all squirrels, I can't.

Tonight I'm sitting out on the screen porch as usual, the monitor brightness turned to the lowest setting. The frogs are chatting in the dark and the little guy who buzzes like a warehouse buzzer is buzzing back and forth with his friends and Sonny Boy just got back from wherever. He wasn't gone long. He took his mom's car which she didn't seem to be completely down with. He's 51 but you know how niggly parents can be. Usually when he does these little runs it's around midnight, I assume after they go to bed. Also, thunder continues to rumble in the distance and, between flash torrents of rain, guys along the creek are setting off their remaining fireworks. The last ones were directly across from where I'm sitting and just past the mangroves. I'm not wearing my glasses so they were especially sparkly and starry. If that was the last of it, it made for a grande finale. The mangroves are also occasionally back-lit by lightning which is nice and, after a week of really heavy rain, five times the average, Alligator Creek is beginning to smell rather heady, like a swamp.

Road's Eye View

Amid the thunder, rumble, pops, crackles, rips, hisses, thuds, cracks, bangs, shots and blasts exploding all around Alligator Creek tonight for fucking hours now, the cacophony of Fourth of July firework celebrations complete with fragments of a late night drunken domestic argument drifting across the creek, there are creatures in yard, I don't know what ... frogs? ... insects? ... I can't tell, telegraphing each other through the now dark ... extended, one note buzzes and someone, a bird perhaps adding a tuneless, usually descending one note, whistle. Are they assuring each other that it will be, they will be, okay? I'm here. I'm here. We're okay. I don't know but it seems like it.

Pausing to remember

Franz Kafka

Franz Kafka. It's nearly midnight now but still July 3 and therefore the 130th anniversary of his birth. I feel a kinship with him. And the cockroach. So today is also a good time remember my friends Delicata, Nugget and Ha'penny.

Delicata, Ha'penny, Nugget
L. to R.

That is all.

The nothing moments we call our lives

It's been raining for a couple of days now and projections for more run out to the end Weatherunderground's 10 day forecast, well really till the end of summer I suppose. It is the rainy season after all. M. Lee and I got caught in it during a Sunday bike ride, which was fine. It only lasted long enough to get us half soaked so we were dry before we got back to our little cracker shack. Since then the intensity has ramped up. There's a big weather front sitting out over the coast and that's that. Rain. Tropical variety. And since Florida is basically paved over wetlands to begin with, no surprise that the house is standing in water and the creeks and intra-coastal waterways are brimming. Haven't seen any alligators swim by yet but I wouldn't be surprised.

So, of course, as part of my ongoing series of real life videos about nothing, I did a video of Saturday's rain from the screen porch. When we are home, M. Lee prefers to remain inside with the air on but Swami, Minerva and I spend most of our time out on the porch. It's really quite lovely there.

A day gone by

Coffee with friends in the morning, then the gym, home, lunch, errands then the beach, Casey Key north. The shore there is buried in crushed shells. Hard walking but we went a few miles up then back. Storm surge is eating the beach, undercutting banks and trees, piling sand on stairs protected by red "Private - Keep Out" signs. Incoming tide this afternoon. It was a bit rough and seaweedy but warm and I stayed in for a long time standing up to my neck, facing the Gulf's western edge, rising and sinking in waves that mirrored the sky...mercurial blue, white, silver waves reflecting the blue and billowy white cloud sky above the horizon which disappeared every time a surge fused them, sea and sky, making the world suddenly austere and slightly threatening.

Future histories tonight and as the century wears on

If you haven't read Jeff Goodell's article in Rolling Stone do. Goodbye, Miami is a must read. And it's not just about Miami or coastal cities. In the overall, it's a peek at the future history of human life on earth.

As for what's going on tonight here on Alligator Creek, lots of ambient sound though traffic on the nearby through street is beginning to settle down at last as is the white noise whoosh of the Tamiami Trail and, just as different sections of an orchestra rise then give way others, the occasional sound of an AC unit snapping on in this, or one of the other two inhabited houses on our dead end street, punctuates the air or the sound of voices or a dog barking in the distance drifts across the water and the squawks and chirps and rhythmic buzzing in the mangroves rise and fall and night settles down around the Gulf and turtles begin crawling up out of the sea to dig their nests and lay their eggs, I notice the sound of palm fronds stirring in the breeze. Eventually I'll hear the gurgles, slaps and splashes of the creek talking to itself and aquatic beings moving through its water.

Morning after the storm before

A frog is happily chirping under one of the palm trees this morning. Doves are cooing in the trees and all across Alligator Creek birds are twittering in the mangroves. I even hear traffic coming from where giant green lightning flashed last night and yes, I'm here listening to it all from the screen porch which I'm currently sharing with some nasty little no-see-ums who must have squeezed in last night to get out of the storm and also survived to see another day. That is all.

Supermoon (and Pluto) report

Last night when I saw photos of the supermoon people in London were already posting it was just too much. Clouds be damned! I grabbed my camera and we took off for the jetty. We got there about a half hour before sunset.

Fisherman on the jetty

The minus tide and soon-to-rise full and super moon made fishing good for everyone but the fish. Pelicans, egrets, dolphins and humans were all working one angle or another with a fair amount of success.


I positioned myself at a prime location on the rocks but out on the jetty there's an unspoken agreement that fisherman outrank photographers so, when a mouthy Jersey guy grandpa (that's him on the left in next photo) started maneuvering his flock toward where I obviously was waiting for the moon, I had to move.

Supermoon conjunct Pluto rising.
There are astrological implications.

Lucky for me. Checking my trusty Google Sky Map app, I saw that the moon (surprise surprise) conjunct Pluto was already above the horizon which meant that, clouds or not, the moon was behind those trees to the far right. Damn! While I stand photographing my phone.

YIKES!

We scrambled eastward. Of course the supermoon was mostly hidden by the clouds but we got a good bench with a view and sat. It was a beautiful night, though a bit on the chilly side, 90 degrees, but it felt like 80. I guess we've adapted. Anyway, we sat on the bench and took in the evening and what there was of the moon as people on the next bench over chatted away....


...while a group of people across the channel sang their moonstruck hearts out in the dark.

Full supermoon on Alligator Creek

OK. That's it. I'm sitting on the screen porch. It's midnight. There's a huge thunder storm going on. Rain is pummeling the tin roof. Thunder is shaking the floor and making the wall tremble. It's like bombs going off. Giant lightning bolts are touching down all around cracking like horrible whips. I shudder and cringe like a poor dog. In case this is the last thing I ever do I better post this now.

No moon but a big moon

It's cloudy here this evening so there's really no point going to the beach in hopes of seeing tonight's Supermoon. And, if it's anything like last night, the minus tide will also be a bust. But last night there sure were a lot of those tiny burrowing clams writhing in the sand, in a good way of course. Anyway, happy moon watching if you're lucky enough to have clear skies tonight and, it was Friday, but happy summer solstice.

Colbert Report...Rep. Steve King wants Chickens to suck it up.

Conservatives, gotta love 'em or not. Rep. Steve King claims he has a better way for chickens to live and Steve Colbert is all over it.

Minus tides

We were out at the beach today at the beginning of a minus tide. That's what you want if you're looking for shells and shark's teeth. The Gulf of Mexico is full of teeth, millions of years of teeth. But it's always luck o' the wave. Today I came home with only one decent tooth but seven excellent small conch shells, the kind hermit crabs inhabit, and a spiral. Taking them away from the sea, the birth water, taking them "home", inside, washing the sand off of them later felt bad. When Thea and Leo come I will scatter them back on the beach for them to find.

Poca Piña

She has her father's tail but she lives in her mother's house, the giant pineapple palm in the front yard. It was Frida's sole domain when she was alive. At that time it was pruned but has since gone wild. It's not as "lovely" but safer which is a good thing because the hawk is about. From where I sit I used to be able to see palm trees in the background, making for some damn lovely photos. Now Frida's palm is a jungle galaxy all its own, both dead and alive, stretching it's gargantuan radius in all directions. It is on a feeding frenzy like the humungous cannibal galaxy NGC 1132 was before it devoured all of its neighbors. I even fear for our little cracker palace.

Poca Piña

Anyway, Poca Piña lives there, which makes me very happy.

Frida's daughter and the old man and birds by the sea

Morning on Alligator Creek
another in my scintillating series of real life non-action vids
Life is good again on Alligator Creek. Sonny Boy was back on the screen porch this morning putting the record straight. I was beginning to worry when he didn't come home Friday night. It just wouldn't be the same without him. And the peanuts did disappear the same day I put them out. We saw her this morning up in Frida's pineapple palm, one little squirrel, surely Frida's daughter.

And we finally got out to the Gulf today and the old guy that the Great Blue Heron found so fascinating when we were here a couple of years ago was there today, sitting in his chair reading as always. The Heron wasn't around but I am going to assume he will show at eventually. The frigatebirds, known to stay aloft for over a week at a time, were there floating on the currents, the magnificent pelicans soared by and the water was 86°.

The Cheap

I've been meaning to write about this for awhile then, after Alligator Creek Update, Don from In A Perfect World asked about finding cheap getaways in real neighborhoods with real people, i.e. places to write. Always the question, isn't it?

This place showed up on craigslist and it's a GREAT deal, half off because it's the low season. Traveling off season is one of the key elements for us to be able to do what we do, plus renting via P2P sites like AirBnB and VRBO. Lucky for us all, it's worldwide. We get cheap places with kitchens and mostly cook variations of the Caribbean diet...rice, beans, veggies, sometimes a little fish or cheese, oatmeal for breakfast, sack lunches, leftovers for dinner. That kind of thing. We drove to Florida but otherwise we use public transportation and walk ...all easy on the pocketbook. Also we avoid "nice" restaurants, coffee shops and fetching little sidewalk cafés plus neither of us drink or drug which keeps expenses down. Mostly we live like the rest of the neighborhood except that I go to open mic poetry events but they're free and, of course, internet is essential. Okay, a lot of this is lifestyle but, for us, P2P rental is essential. Did I mention we don't skydive, zip line, shop, ride elephants etc. etc. You know. Cheap.

Alligator Creek update

Florida.

I started this in the morning while sitting here on the screen porch drinking coffee but now it's night and I'm back and at it again, this time listening to an exotic cacophony of birds. And, though it's nearly full on night, billowy white clouds are still visible in the sky. As there are no city lights to speak of, I wonder if it's light reflecting off the Gulf? Anyway, we are back staying in the little shack on Alligator Creek. We got in about 3 AM this morning but I'm still on Pacific time so I'm not that tired plus it's really hot. It will take a few days to adjust.

As for South Venice, not a lot has changed. Seems Sonny Boy is still living across the street with his decrepit parents. At least this morning they were all out on their screen porch running it down to each other in very loud, very raspy voices. It was quite the lively discussion. Then a smoking car pulled up and he left and he's not back yet, or at least he hasn't assumed his usual post on the screen porch. Ah well. It's Friday night but I hope he still lives with them. I like hearing the drift of his phone conversations at night and seeing the glow of his laptop through the porch screens. Tonight, it's just me out here on this dead end street sitting in computer glow in the dark that has settled over Alligator Creek. But who knows what's going to happen next? Currently there's a hand-scrawled "4 SALE" sign stuck at a crooked angle by their mailbox. And no matter what, his mom and dad, though miracles of modern medicine, won't be around much longer anyway.

And so far I haven't seen one squirrel. It's only been a day but I have seen two hawks or one twice. When I was here last time this place was a frolicking squirrel playground then Frida was killed by a hawk. I'm afraid I upset the balance by putting all those peanuts out. Will I put peanuts out this time? Yeah. I suppose. Does that bother me? Yes, but I know I'll do it anyway. It's a conundrum. I know it's self-serving but I need/want to have wildlife around.

Other than that, Barky the dog and his family are gone. According to Zillow that house was foreclosed. It's really dark now and I don't see the clouds anymore nor are any birds singing.

Florida again

Florida

Tampa Bay bridge aka Sunshine Skyway Bridge at 2 AM. Hey Florida! We're baaaack.

Swami and Minerva
crossing the Tampa Bay bridge.