Lake Woebegone it ain't !

Ok, Lake Woebegone it ain’t (14 English teachers just fell over backwards in their chairs) but there are some beautiful moments to take in around Pacecola. I love to climb aboard the ole Yamahog at 5ish in the morning and ride to one of natures local workshops. The air is damp and thick (like most mornings in Florida) but still surprisingly cool and refreshing. I roll back to position my take off on the driveway awaking the neighborhood dogs, not with the roar of my engine, but with the simple sounds of grunting (hey give me a break, I’m getting old and that bike weighs nearly 1000 pounds and has an incredible gravity attraction to be on it’s side). I rotate the key and press the magic starter button and Blondie comes to life.
NOW the dogs are in an all out uproar, no problem, I am on my way down the road now anyway. At this time of the morning, you have time to slow down and smell the honeysuckles (no roses in my neighborhood). Mr. Chris throws up a hand of greeting from across the street; he just arrived home on his moped after his shift at the Tom Thumb. I can see the kitchen lights on in his home; no doubt his wife has the coffee a biscuits’ ready. Easing slowly down the lane is part of the magic of Florida. You can hear the crickets still chirping and the frogs serenading in the neighborhood retention pond as the sun has yet to peak from behind the Pine and Oak tree walls. Ole Lloyd is retrieving his paper and giving a nod (that’s man motion for what’s up?) in his ragged terry bath robe and well worn plaid slippers. I noticed he doesn’t get up with near the speed of bending over. That’s now doubt from his many years at the fire department down in Key West before his retirement.
Turning onto Highway 90 I start to see the beginnings of a sunrise underneath the dark pillow clouds of a fast moving front. I generally don’t stop over the bridge that crosses the marshes but I certainly ride slowly. From the top of the bridge you can see the light white coal smoke of the Gulf Power Generator plant and the high rising buildings of the local University like a phoenix rising from the green ashes of heavy tree cover. Who would think even a plain old building could look as wonderful bathed in crimson sun rays. Believe it or not there are still several boats on their sides in the marsh left over from Hurricane Ivan. It is a sad end to some, at one time, magnificent vessels. The 2 ft deep shallow waters have made it nearly impossible to retrieve these boats. I have been known to, from time to time, get to the end of the bridge and turn around so I can get the view coming from the opposite side. The water sparkles like shallow firework sparklers are just below the surface and from time to time you can catch a tug boat slowly and methodically moving an emptied coal barge through the glassy waters back to the intercostals water ways. Watching the ripples behind the tug you can catch a glimpse of a duck or two and sometimes even a pelican blending into the normally calm water way. Now once across the bridge…reality comes back to roost. Cars are blowing their horns, people are in a hurry running in and out of traffic and the highway patrol is greeting it’s citizens with an opportunity to generously donate to the state treasury. Hmmm I think I will turn around and go back across the bridge. Have a great day.