Traveling on Shank's Mare

The need to pay a bill by mail and to get some exercise was the catalyst for a walk to the post office in Summerland Key, nearly four miles one way.

We can do this, we said. Elvis didn't object so off we went with some bottles of water, a camera, and the payment envelope.

Getting there was good; getting home, another story. With two miles left before we got back home, I was ready to hitchhike. The pain in shoulders, back and toes reminded me of the nun who told me to forego Novocain at the dentist's office and "offer up the pain to Jesus." Even at that young age, I though the idea nonsensical. Me, I like to avoid pain. My only choice in this event was to ignore it and think about how wonderful it  be to was going to be to get in the shower and then lay down. Billy and Elvis set the pace and we made it -- 3 1/2 hours round trip. Glad we did.

Today we hit the road again, this time heading south and for less than half of yesterday's distance. Less energy today.

All that exercise justified a restaurant dinner and it was a very good one. Just up the road, north, is the Square Grouper, so named for the square bales of marine life that used to be hauled up with regularity around here. Their lounge happy hour starts at 4:20 p.m. If Jeff Sessions, Trump's nominee for AG, gets his way, this place may be in trouble.

Below are some the sights from along the way.

Our neighbors across the way have a banana tree that is living up to its name. We've been told these will be excellent eating bananas, superior to those we buy at the market.

Note the flower on the long stalk.














Couldn't pass up this little guy. There are also large iguanas that lounge in the mangrove trees by the canal in the back of the house. No pictures yet, stay tuned.










Without the penguins, fish cleaning stations would have to find a new way to dispose of all the "trimmings" (to use a euphemism). They get into full combat mode during feeding times.

The tangled up stuff you see is fishing tackle that has been caught in the electric lines. Every year, all the lines are cleared and the tackle is donated to the Boy Scout troop in the area to be salvaged for resale. Fishing enthusiasts can lose a setup due to overenthusiastic casting (marks you as an amateur) or when a tarpon takes the bait and runs out all your line.

Here's a native Floridian we met while walking across the fishing bridge south of us. He had lots of stories and never stopped talking. Said he worked in film production for movies and television productions including "Breaking Bad" and "NCIS Miami." He shared lots of insider fishing tips, none of which I remember. Maybe Billy can recall some of them when we get the chance to wet a line.