The Recession Must Be Over

I found a notice from the city hung on our front door knob this morning. They're planning on installing sidewalks on both sides of the main road past our house.

The road, when originally built, was two lanes in each direction with a large median separating oncoming traffic. The lane widths, however and in keeping with the typical cheap design of the entire town by the original developers*, were too narrow, although technically legal (the best kind of legal) which meant cars traveling in the same direction, if one tried to overtake the other, would literally come within inches of each other in the process. And this was before SUVs. Forget about trucks.

In the case of our road, a decision was made** to make the next-over parallel through road into the major thoroughfare and to remove a lane in each direction from our now-secondary street. The remaining lane was widened and the leftover paved right-of-way was turned into bike lanes.

Now they're going to put in sidewalks, although the few people I see out walking around use the bike lanes without any conflict from the (just as few) bicyclists. Still, considering the amount of rain we've had recently and the soggy condition of the ground, a hard surface to walk on further removed from traffic might be a good idea.

In fact, the major problem I see is the continuing rain. We had a couple of glorious sunny, low humidity days right at the equinox. Since then it has been continuous overcast and downpour without sight of the sun. The ground is mush and our swale is a fully qualified moat. Any digging the road crew does is going to have to be between the swale and the road and is still going to be all mud. I can't imagine any concrete they pour is ever going to set properly before mid-winter.

In any event, it will keep the city workers busy and our driveway doesn't open on to that street. Also, I think the palm on the corner is far enough back (our side of the swale/moat) to not be affected by the construction. So have at it!

*Many of the major roads have since been widened but the bridges over the canals, being much more expensive to upgrade, are still the original width and can cause quite the adrenaline rush when multiple vehicles attempt to use them at the same time.

**This happened when the powers finally admitted the entire city's transportation infrastructure was completely inadequate for the population and bulldozed a limited access crosstown boulevard clear through the city about a 1/4 mile south of us. The next street over got the full intersection and traffic signal, we got a westbound only entrance/exit and no light.

The Remembrance of Things Past, or, Mom's Overstuffed Sugar-Crystal-Topped Cinnamon Madeleine

My brother brings home pastries ocassionally, doughnuts or muffins, that sort of thing. A couple of weeks ago he brought home two over-large muffins, ate one, and left the other for Mom and me to share in the morning. Except Mom got up early and ate the whole thing. Not her fault. She didn't know--until he asked me how I enjoyed the muffin.

Last night he brought home a box with three muffins and two doughnuts. I set one muffin out for Mom along with her coffee cup. (She likes to make her own breakfast which usually consists of pouring and nuking the coffee and toasting a piece of bread which she may, or may not, eat plain. I then usually fix her a bowl of chocolate Cheerios, except on french toast Sunday)

Sure enough, she was up before I got back from my walk. She had very carefully cut the muffin in half and left it on the counter. When I asked her why she said, "I feel bad about eating the whole thing last time so that's your share." I explained we had plenty this time, showed her the box full and gave her the half to finish.

The muffins aren't the point of the story. The point is: she remembered the incident for two full weeks.

More Irrational Exuberance (and Some Reality)

As I was out walking this morning I noticed two new Century 21 For Sale signs up in the neighborhood. The new house under construction has the cinder block walls up (including the faux buttresses on the front), the interior framing is in, and the crew was starting to lay tarp on the plywood sub roofing. So much for the exuberance.

The irrational part is all this is happening while yet another house (just around the corner) has been abandoned. All the furniture is out and the lawn is growing rank. Not one of the other abandoned places has been taken up nor have any of the other For Sale signs produced results.

On the bright side, I passed a great blue heron on my walk this morning standing by the side of the canal. More than a dozen ibis were grubbing in the back yard when I got back. And two eagles swooped (very) low over the house yesterday.

Claiming Territories

This morning there was a mockingbird perched overhead calling out a series of complicated and varied snatches of song, all either doubled or tripled, all saying the same thing in as many different ways as he could manage: "This is my spot. Mine. I own it. Get off my lawn!"

Of course, it sounds better in bird.

Also, I saw the burrowing owl at the constricted site again. But then there was only one at the median site, so I'm not sure if there are really three in the area or if the one from constricted was just visiting median the other day.

"And You Can Be On the List!"

I had noticed during my morning walks the largest burrowing owl nesting site on my route, where a family of five had spent much of last year, seemed to be slowly constricting in size. The safe zone, marked off by white plastic pipes, within which humans should not tread appeared smaller, several poles now so close to burrows it seemed the owls would feel crowded. I have no idea if someone (legally or illegally) was moving the posts, or if it was my imagination, but I had not seen any owls there for months now. (One other large site has never had many inhabitants as far as I can tell and a small one in the median of the main street is occupied.)

This morning I almost missed the owl that has taken up residence in the site. I noticed it at the last second, stopped, said "Hello," and moved on whereupon it flew onto one of the plastic pipes and began screeching, at me or not I couldn't tell. It's a deeper sound than the larger hawk makes. But it still translates as "I can kill things!"

I'm just happy to know they're back.

Irrational Exuberance

On one of the streets along the route of my morning walks there are three houses in a row that appear to be victims of the housing crisis. The first, for a long time, had a sign out front reading "Open House." I believe the realtor parked in an empty driveway across the street. (The driveway has been in for years but there is no building on that lot.) Now the sign simply says "For Sale." The second house (with the equivalent of a five car garage--two in the side and three in the back--but, fortunately, not the usual "garage doors are the facade of our house" design) has a "For Sale" sign and a tube for taking printed info on the house.

The third was the most entertaining of all. The sign out front read "Not Yet For Sale. Call ###-####." That sign is now gone and there was a guy in there with a paint can and brush.

Beyond the third house was an empty lot. I say "was" because yesterday, in the middle of all this unsold real estate, somebody started building on that lot. They did some leveling yesterday and this morning they were pouring the foundation.

There are several other houses in the neighborhood up for sale (including one with a "Pre-Foreclosure Sale" sign) and I know of at least two more that are just plain abandoned.

One admires the optimism.

The New Year

So, we survived the Holidays reasonably well. The lawn ornaments are down, and the tree is coming down today. We didn't have as many blow-up penguins and snowmen as last year and, it seems to me, they weren't up as long. The weird tree ornaments didn't freak me out quite as much, either.

I made three batches of cookies between Thanksgiving and Christmas: one each of chocolate chip, sugar, and oatmeal raisin. They're all gone, too, though the effects of all those calories will be with us for a while. Made homemade split pea soup from scratch yesterday and Mom, ever the New Englander, pronounced it the best way to start the New Year and had seconds. (Personally, I think the french toast for New Year's Day breakfast was the best way to start, but that's just me.)

Mom is holding up quite well both intellectually and physically. She's got a sore on her gum under her dentures which is limiting her to soft food (french toast qualifies) and we'll see the doctor Thursday for that. We got a new microwave for Christmas and it didn't take her that long to re-learn to re-heat her coffee in there instead of on the stove top. Half the time she makes her own breakfast and snacks and she is diligent about straightening up her room and making her bed (even if it takes her an hour and she doesn't remember to do it until two hours before bed time).

The weather has warmed back up, too. 65 for my morning walk and close to 80 for a high despite the cloud cover. We're leaving the doors open during the day again.

All in all, we're off to a good start.

Rime Time

In the 30s at walk time this morning. I noticed, all along the way, in the north facing, shadowed, low-lying patches of grass a light white dusting, like confectioner's sugar on spinach*. All the birds were sensibly hidden away as well, except for a few mourning doves huddled hopefully high above the empty cracked corn container.

*Yes, it's supposed to be a disgusting, inappropriate image. Just like frost in south Florida.

Hawks and Doves

Out walking in the 43 degree pale dawn sunlight and realized the local hawk was standing not more than ten feet away from me in the burrowing owl "enclosure." (The staked out area that tells the city maintenance crews were not to mow.) We stared at each other for a couple of moments before it came to me:

"You're not. . .hunting . . . OWLS!? Are you?"

He looked at me, then one of the burrows, then back at me and slowly took off to land on a telephone pole across the street. So, that was my answer, I guess.

I backtracked a little from my walk, later, to see if he had gone back to the owl site but there was no sign of him.

I mean, for crying out loud, there are two to three dozen mourning doves just down the street hanging out on the telephone lines overlooking the bin of cracked corn the elderly couple put out for the Muscovy ducks every morning. Go have some pigeon for breakfast!

Our Version of Winter

Several of the homes in the neighborhood have these large, Mediterranean-looking pines which I have not yet been able to identify. They are up to fifty feet tall, very thin, with short regular branches that are set absolutely evenly up the trunk.

This morning a (small) flock of ibis flew in and perched together at the very top of the tallest one in the area. I know birds are very light for their size but these at least looked too big for the branches they occupied. The dozen or so birds were spaced evenly around the top half dozen branches and the tree swayed only a little.

They looked like snow capping the pine.

A Word to the Wise

I've noticed recently that most of the birds that were hanging around the neighborhood seem to be gone. The mottled ducks are still up at the north end of the road by the canal and most of the burrowing owls are still there, but no ibis, vultures or parrots and hardly any doves, crows, mockingbirds, etc. I presume nesting season is over and most of them are just off somewhere but it is weird to walk around at dawn in silence.

The neighborhood falcon is still here, though. This morning he was sitting on the telephone line in a front yard at the end of my street. We stared at each other as I walked directly beneath him. As I went by a squirrel came down the driveway toward me, obviously oblivious to the raptor over his head. He was coming from behind the hawk so the bird didn't see him either. I stopped, pointed and yelled at the squirrel, "You idiot! Look up!!" He froze. I continued on a little way, then turned around. The squirrel was gone.

The falcon saw me coming back and swooped off the wire, diving down to my height before gliding up to the top of the nearest telephone pole. As soon as he did, the squirrel popped out from under some ground cover planted along the driveway and took off.

The falcon is not that big and the squirrel was probably more than he wanted to deal with, but still, it's nice to know the rodent paid attention to my warning.

Hawk's Breakfast

Haven't mentioned hawks recently because, since about the last mention, they have all disappeared, gone north I presume, where there is more temperature variation and thus better thermals to ride. So I was surprised to see on one of my walks recently a hawk perched on the shingled roof of a house calmly tearing apart his feathered breakfast. He was surrounded by a disapproving chorus of smaller birds (also on the roof but safely out of range). He did not let their raucous insults disturb his dining experience.

Saw him again this morning, perched on an electric line. Fourteen/eighteen inches head-to-toe, two feet head-to-tail tip. Far too large to look comfortable on a wire. I walked right under him. He was staring intently at a nearby tree and, again, a number of smaller birds had set up a perimeter around him and were sending out warnings. No doubt there's a nest in that tree.

Suburban Zombie Dog-Walking Lady, Part 3

I have discovered the lair of the zombie dog-walking lady. It's at the furthest point of my walk before I begin the loop back. I have varied the timing of my walks (more by accident than design) and--arriving early one morning--discovered it standing by the circular drive, still, unmoving, looking for all the world like a giant, white, overweight, female jockey boy statue holding the reins to the dog. (So, just like one of those obnoxious jockey boy statues except for the giant, white, overweight female part.) It did not move an inch as I went past.

The house is strange but in a very subtle way. It is single story, as so many others in the neighborhood are, but with a roof that rises to the level of a two story structure without gables or skylight. It also has a half turret appendage attached to the back. (The back abuts an empty lot which in turn faces another road that is part of my walk so I can, between the two see the entirety of the place.) It can not be hollow under those huge eaves. No one would be crazy enough to heat or cool all of that empty space.

Since no house in south Florida has a basement, the water table being far too high, the only logical conclusion is that the reanimation lab is tucked up under the roof, invisible to the casual observer.

I have never seen lights on in this place, nor a car in the driveway. Since any closer inspection will involve either deception or trespass, I am not sure where to take the investigation from here.

The Anti-Feng Shui House

There is a house along the route of my morning walk which has, for it's front yard, a planting of trees and shrubs which is almost but not quite perfectly misaligned, misplaced, mis-spaced and mis-selected to produce not just a space that is impossible to appreciate--or use--but impossible even to walk by without an inward shudder for the lack of artistry, design--grace even.

I say "almost but not quite perfectly" because to say otherwise would imply intent, consciousness and awareness to the planter of this monstrosity. And there was a planter. This is not a happenstance of nature. Nature, indifferent though it may be, is natural. There is nothing natural in this layout*. The precise misplacement of each item proclaims its anti-naturalness. Yet there is a sincerity to the place that precludes one from proclaiming "Here be Irony!"

*Besides, when this town was originally laid out, the entire peninsula was scraped down to the limestone. Perhaps one in 10,000 of the original trees was spared.

Suburban Zombie Dog-Walkng Lady, Part 2

Encountered the SZD-WL again this morning. It was being led around by the aging shephard. I noticed the bandages are off its leg, which can mean only one thing...

Regeneration/reanimation is going on here! Which can mean only one thing...

There is a secret zombie regeneration/reanimation lab somewhere in the neighborhood!! Which can mean only one thing...

I have a mission! I must/will find that lab.

Suburban Zombie Dog-Walking Lady

As the days have become longer and hotter (and humider(?), humidier(?), more humidous(?)) I have moved my morning walk earlier and earlier to stay just ahead of sunrise. I see occasional neighbors up and about, usually a kid or two waiting for a school bus (that's over for now) or adults leaving for work or walking their dogs. I've gotten to know a couple of the dogs (Hey, Gina, hi, Harry!). But there's one I have not been able to introduce myself to.

He's an elderly but still magnificent shepherd who walks the same route almost every morning trailing a short, rotund zombie lady behind him. I can tell she's a zombie because her eyes are beady and unfocused, staring straight ahead into the middle distance. Her head never turns; she acknowledges nothing in their path. She does not deviate from the established route. She does not speak when spoken to. Lately she's appeared with bandages wrapped around one leg. I suspect she might be deteriorating.

At first I thought she might be a normal human but all stuck up and snotty in that stereotypical suburban way but that would've meant she was annoying and obnoxious. Dealing with which is not how I want to start the day. Then I thought maybe she was terrified of everything or pathologically shy which was not merely depressing but pathetic and also an early morning downer to be avoided.

I have therefor concluded she is a zombie attached to the shepherd every morning by its owner and set loose to act as a counterweight to any ambitions the old dog might still entertain. The dog, of course, knows just how far he can go before he has to turn around in order to be home before the sun is fully risen and his zombie can no longer walk. He's too old (and she's too heavy) for him to be dragging her any distance.

This conclusion also has the benefit of allowing me a little entertainment during my walks.