I checked the weather first thing this morning. Going to be a rather topsy turvey week in ways of the weather and I don't reckon I'll be getting a ride in again until Saturday when I got to Brevard and Indian River Counties for a 70 milers. The weather so far is looking stable and I decide to take the East Loop Trail. I've just gotten back from the doctor's office and the pharmacist and downed a Cipro. I dislike taking antibiotics, but if it makes the difference from having to ride longer without needing to use the restroom, I reckon I'll bite the bullet and deal with it.
At first I have my riding jacket on, but as I open the garage door which needs to get fixed as I am getting sore plumb tired of heaving it up and down, I notice that the air is extremely humid. What was I thinking. Of course it is. 3 inches in the last 2 days and more to come. I thought for certs when I woke up at 4 in the morning I must have been having a hot flash, but no, it's just warm and humid. I remove the jacket, although the seabreeze puts a chill in the air and throw it up on the hood of the car, forgo the gloves today and head down the driveway.
Everything is green. It's amazing how fast here a monsoonal downpour (and it's not even monsoon season yet!!!!) can revive all these plants. The Drake Elms and Bald Cypress are such a vivid green it's almost shocking to look at. I inhale the smell of cut grass as I reckon they took their chances yesterday and mowed the fields. The fields of course now are inhabited by all sorts of bird life as the rains have created little, or at some places, big ponds. Many a times the lawn tractors have gotten stuck and have had to be pulled out of the muck.
I ride down Budinger and head east on 17th. The clouds are moving fast, kinda like they do in a tropical depression. The sun makes a somewhat half hearted attempt of peeking out from time to time. I realized that perhaps later today we might have some real serious weather as the cells are apparently already building up this morning and the air is warm and moist. The clouds are also moving from the west which tells me that they are coming off the Gulf. Not a pretty picture to think of. Well, pretty in a scary way, but not in the practical sense. I've already got the rest of the day afterwards to work in the yard. I have resolved that I am not pruning the damn palms!!!! The storm the other day blew 2 of the fronds down, so maybe, well, that's wishful thinking and not really a good game plan. Here comes the sun so I snap a picture. Golden light against the darker shades of grey and darker grey.
When I get pass the house at the end of Orange and turn onto 19th, I get the crazy dogs running and snarling at the fence. They look like a cross between Rottweilers and Bull Mastiffs. I think about if one got out they might chew my leg off. They are two fine ugly dogs and certainly a deterrent for anyone with thoughts of breaking into this property. As soon as I pass them I hear this loud, and I mean very loud bellowing and mooing. I notice that it's coming from the Hammocks over yonder and this is a repetitive sound of distress. In fact, it's so loud and constant that I am forced to stop and try and see what it going on. I can't see anything but the cypress in the hammocks and the awful sound coming from there. Thoughts of either the cow is stuck in the bog, to snake or gator, but well, not much I can do about it. Wonder if they make that noise for other reasons? It's not like I ever studied about cows for that matter.
To my left I snap a picture of a little church that when I've passed it on Sunday mornings, the entire lot is full of cars. It's a church for country black folks. I always wondered, from the amount of cars in the lot, how in the world they all fit in that little structure? Would not appear to be able to hold as many people that show up for their Sunday sermons.
After turning right on Old Hickory Tree I then immediately turn left on Jan Lan Blvd. Honestly I am trying to find things to take my mind off of my doctor's visit this morning. I look here and there, to find something, anything to try and find a balance. I spy a beautiful weeping bottlebrush, so named after it's flowers which resemble, exactly that; little bottlebrushes. I have one on the side of the house, but these trees, from Northern Australia, need a lot of sun and mine is looking a tad bit wanting since my south side is now almost covered fully in shade. This one is a beaut! I can see the bees flying in and around, and believe it or not, they make a tropical honey out of this. Not quite a smooth and sweet as your regular tupelo or orange blossom, but it's got quite a bite, a bit of flare if I may say. For folks from up North wanting a weeping willow, I say, get this tree, not only is it drought tolerant, it's also not invasive like so many of our plants that we "must have". However, it does have a tendency to split wood as I found out during Charley when mine split in half, falling against the house and creating a snarl of a mess.
Right down the road is another wonder, the last remnants of The Tree of Gold, aka the Golden Tabebuia, Central Florida's premier flowering tree, our dogwood down here. I stop and pick up a fallen flower and put it away while snapping pics of this gold against the grey skies. Even against the blue sky it looks stunning. Today it looks to have taken Ole Sun's job. The dropped flowers litter the ground and behind it is Malaysian Confederate Jasmine blooming, the smell so heady that you feel like your swimming in it. In North Florida I had this and it ran up a 100 foot long needled pine. In the Spring the tree was one big cascading trail of white blooms and overwhelming scents that made sitting on the front porch a real pleasure.
Course, this would be a perfect place to just contemplate what is going on in my head. Doctor's visits for me always make me a little leery. For the most part they are good. I think, for good measure I was thrown a bit by the results of my blood work and Dexa Scan. I probably, in the back of my mind, always have that nagging fear of my white blood cells being off. Everything came back, and I felt wonderful as he read my results. Then he pulled out the other paperwork and said in that voice, you know, the one where you know that something is going on the flip side of the coin. My bones are in deplorable condition. I am of course, in disbelief. This isn't something I ever would have thought of. I don't have any symptoms. The doc informs me that while my active cycling is good for everything else, it is not so for my small frame. That and the fact that I've rarely ever drank milk. That and the fact that I cannot do hormone supplements and my estrogen levels are falling. So, what the bloody fuck. Okay, excuse my French, but still. Can't a girl win? I am not even going to mention the age my bones are in. I did fall out of my seat. Well, I can eat cheese, my cholesterol is absolutely superb. That and lots of Coral Calcium. I am not giving up the cycling. I told the doc no. NO NO. I am determined. And stubborn. I'll eat the cow! Bring me a cow, I'll milk it too! No, seriously, reckon I'll have to just start drinking soy. Joy!! Does butter and whip cream count? Smiles all around now.
At the end of Jan Lan I turn right on Hickory Tree and noticed that most all the oranges have been picked and the blooms have quit and begun putting out new fruit. With the cold winter again, we should have a rather nice big crop. If you get just enough cold, then the citrus turns out better. Too much, it ends up killing it. There is that very fine line. I will miss the smell of the blossoms, they are one of the best things about living down here.
Okay, I must have missed this one the last few times I've taken this route, but there it is. A church for our Cracker Cowboys. Now this, I can dig. It's outside. This is so interesting and I make a mental note to come by here when they are having service just to check it out. Wonder if the woman folk come? It does say "Cowboy" after all. This just seems all so appropriate for a man who works outdoors almost all his life. One comes to appreciate that which can't really be bought. Sure, you can buy property, but you'll never have "full" control over it. It's only a matter of when something will come along, the Ole Gal, and make a few alterations here and there.
At the end I turn back right onto Old Hickory again and as usual, reflect upon the old boarded up house, with it's abandoned orange groves. I find it sad. It's like they all left in a hurry. Wonder who lived there? What happened to them? Must be a while now as the irrigation system still in a few places was last used decades ago? The overhead sort, the one we now know is not correct? The field are all neglected but there are still a few putting out fruit; hollow I am sure or at least bitter. Citrus does that. The trees have a life span of 25-30 years tops. That is if they make it through the canker situation, the cold, and now, another worst deal, if that is possible: greening. Greening, no cure, if you get it, gotta chop it down. It will fail. Nothing to do. All these damn problems that come from elsewheres. I see a mockingbird atop one of the old irrigation sprinklers. I stop and try and capture it. Tricky, light is in front of me directly.
You can see, if you look closely enough, that the sprinkler system pole is actually next to a now dead citrus which is in itself, covered in vines and brush. The death of a life. About half ways down the road I come upon a rancher's home. Nothing fancy like some of the newer ones, but a genuine, real Florida cracker home probably built sometime right after 1920's. It always reminds me of the Cracker home that I lived in up in Taylor County with the same red siding and the tin roof. The difference was that mine had 12 feet ceilings and enough room in the attic to make a whole nother apartment if you so desired. Mine was a much bigger house, but the effects are still the same. I figure that this is the sort of house I would have been living in if I had stayed married and moved south to Arcadia. Ironically, thinking of my latest news, I would definitely have had to give up road cycling due to the lack of paved roads down there and taken up riding a horse. The house itself on this road is surrounded by fields of green grass and cows and horses. The recent rains have turned the then bahia grass from a dried brown to a rich, Kelly green of sorts. Bahia is like that. Almost like a resurrection fern. I then realize that I am getting bit. Sure enough a skeeter has gotten me right about my sock line on my right leg. I can feel the no see ems too around the neck and on my arms. If the rains keep up this way, we'lll have a delightful time with them soon enough. I need to get back on the bike and resume peddling to keep them at bay.
Back on 17th Street I want to take some pictures of the older houses in the city proper. It's almost as though some of the houses were built out of instant inspiration of sorts and almost all before the invention of air conditioning for certs. Most have screened in front porches, as most houses were built with a dog trot for air circulation in the home itself. Nowadays it is almost unheard of to have a screened in front porch, reckoning most folks want that privacy in the back. Having owned a house built in 1923, I know it's hard work to upkeep these old homes. The weather is almost always against you in regards to upkeeps. One must have an ultimate loving desire to hold onto the past to bring these homes into the future. Looking at the streets with the original brick roads is in itself telling. While they paved 17th because it's a majorly used road, it's almost like they stopped on certain streets and the concrete laid down ends like a slop of the bricks like a painter who spilled a can of paint. Wonder if this was done out of lack of funding by the city or at the request of the homeowners to leave the historical aspects well alone. I can't chalk it up as being further away from the Lakefront and being neglected as some of the homes near the Lakefront don't look to hot, but I dont' remember seeing any roads on the other side of 192 that still retain the bricks. So, perhaps it is that they just deemed the further away from the lake, the less worthy? Even going down 17th Street you can see, all the way down, the old concrete thin slabs instead of real curbs. This results in just a 2 inch "curb" of sorts between the grass property and the paved road itself. I wonder if this was a cheaper alternative to real curbs as I've never anything like it, or if perhaps, this was the original curb for the bricks that now lie under the pavement? Some of the houses are beginning really show some wear and tear, even dilapidated to an extent as the original homeowners have long moved out into the outlying areas into newer, more modern homes leaving the old city neighborhood and it's charming houses to the lower working class tenants.
Then I come up to one of the more original, certainly non conventional houses simply because it sports different windows. The windows are the shape of a keyhole!! I kid you not. I don't want to get too close as the homeowner is cutting the grass and there is very little room between the grass and the street, plus I don't want to be too conspicuous that I am actually taking pictures of his house! Still, I have to wonder what in the world were they thinking when they cut out the frames to their windows?? I could elaborate on ideas! Portal keys? Mysteries to be unlocked? Was this an attempt at humor? I just laugh at it and the creativity that must have gone in mind when cutting out the frames. Wonder what it cost if you break a window? Since I know nothing at all about replacing windows, I am stumped on this one, but reckon it must be a whole lot easier now than when they were first put in?
etting back on the bike, I observe as usual, when there is not heavy traffic, the differences in the houses still standing after so many years. St. Cloud is definitely not a "tourist town". It has tried with much determination to disassociate itself from Kissimmee and the Disney World area and pretty much anything that has been dragged in over the past couple of decades in regards to tourism. For the most part, as reflected in the houses and the surrounding area, the town consists of the original Florida Cracker families, namely the Bronsons, Partins, Stevens and Whaleys, then the soldiers and their families that have moved here after the Wars and have given the city the name of "Soldier City, USA", the Snowbirds came next with the Brits, most lf them staying after a few years of going back and forth, then the Hispanics, mostly from Puerto Rico, and the Islanders from Haiti and Jamacia and lastly, the displaced Floridians from elsewhere, coming here for economic reasons. Not exactly a very sophisticated mix, but a whole lot more than North Florida. I am totally fascinated by the history of this town and need to get a book from the local historic society and start reading, or better yet, just borrow one from Kim Stevens Duffy. I've worked with her at Peghorn. She'd know, being a 3rd or 4th generationer. Is that correct terminology?
Right before I reach Vermont, I am forced to stop and unclip and I notice to my wondering eyes, a Jacaranda! The better thing is that it actually has wonderful blossoms on it! I am not sure whether jacarandas are fragrant or not, but their color is the absolutely beautiful shade between purple and blue, being not quite true to either, but to both. Maybe a blue lavender or a purple lavender. I have five in my yard which have never bloomed, but am assured that it takes a good 7-8 years for it to happen. I think it's been 8, but not sure if it makes a difference in whether that counts as from seeds or from little trees. I raised mine from seeds 8 years ago and they are now at least 20 ft. tall. Since I only lost part of the leaves this winter, I might still get lucky? Maybe next year? Once again, the lighting with my camera, the dark overcast and the positioning of the sun makes it hard to get what my eyes perceive color wise. Exasperation! Well, at least I tried and I feel so thrilled to having seen my first jacaranda of the year.
Finishing 17th Street, I head south on Budinger and stop in at Peghorn to see if Kim is in, but she's in a meeting. As I am riding away, I spy something out of the corner of my eye and as bizarre as this may sound, it's a rea live black squirrel. Now, I've never done seen a "black" squirrel in Florida before. I've seen more greys than I've wanted and about 50 fox squirrels, which is rare beyond rare, but this is truly a shocker. I've done been told that they rightly exist here, but I've never had the pleasure. I watch this shy creature scampering to get away from me, so grabbing the camera to get a picture is not doable. He's too quick for me as he runs up the bald cypress. I try videoing him and I hope it will come out. He keeps moving further and further away, going up another cypress, but half way up he stops and peeks out from behind the tree trunk at me. It's like we are both checking each other other out and just watching with pure curiosity. He knows I am staring and he matches my stares back. He is still too timid to make much more else out of his interest and finally runs way up where I can no longer see him. I must have looked a fright to him with my hair, all wild looking, getting long and having the audacity to curl up in this humidity. I have to admit, I had a hard time relating this cute guy to a "tree rat" which I classify the grey squirrels. This was a new experience, a little like the one the other day when I showed up at work and saw this exotic new plant called a "pussy willow". At first I thought it was a "dead" tree with little white lights on it, maybe an Easter thing as folks like to hang things from their trees for Easter in the South. I could not clearly see it as I was standing about 15 feet away. Two exotic things in 2 days. What's next?
I've got 5 miles left to finish to get to my 25. I know we're fixing to have some thunderstorms today, sometime, somewhere as I can feel it coming on. The smell and feel is definitely telling. Tomorrow is calling for severe weather and long storms all day long. On top of that, I've to work both Thursday and Friday to have off on Saturday in order to ride over in Brevard County. I want to ride over the Causeway, never having had the pleasure, and on down to Sebastian Inlet. It's suppose to be the "Perfect Day". Sunny, with highs of 85. I decide to finish my ride with a few loops around the Steven's Plantation. Gives me time to wind down and be introspective for a bit. When I ride, I have the tendency to pick music that reflects on my mood from aggressive (usually when I am anxious about something), to upbeat when I am positive, to melancholy when I am feeling a little blue, but for the most part I like music that flows and allows me to "think" and "fee"l water as if I were on a ship. Thus, I have a tendency to love music that gives me that sense of movement and it can induce throughts of longing for the sea, and excitement of the senses to a total feel of tranquility. I put on my headphones, now safe from the annoying flow of vehicles. There are movements in certain pieces of musical compositions that allow me to feel while riding, the lull of the ship over the water which can be a soft ride or an adventurous one depending on the atmospherical conditions and thoughts running through my mind at any given moment. I reflect. As blue as the sky is though, it is never the same blue as the sea and oftentimes the road itself has too many cracks and shifts to make for smooth sailings. There's never been a ride when I do not at some point, give this at least a 15 minute recognition. This morning I am contemplating what measures to take aside from my diet in relations to my bone frailty. What a shocker! Who would have known? I've got weights for lifting, but I will need to come up with something for the legs and hips. I deplore clubs and gyms, so I am wondering will swimming do? Something I must look into. I just cannot give up cycling. I can't even imagine. It's such a comfort for me; it would almost be like asking me to give up a part of who I am. Maybe when I am older, but right now I need to have the bike and cycling in my life. It doesn't make me, but it has become such as essential part of whom I am that it's simply not a thought that I can process for the time being. These are my thoughts as I finish my final laps. I am home, and it's warm at 87. I've got a rose bush to put in. First one I've ever bought and I wonder, will gardening work qualify as a bone strengthening regime? Only time will tell.
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