The Philosophers' Pea Shooter: April 2024

A sharp wrap came on the cabin door.

“¡Esperar!” commanded the occupant. He finished the line he was writing in his diary, dusted it with talcum powder, placed a sheet of tracing paper over it, closed the book. He replaced it in his desk. “Ingrese, por favor.”

“Capitán Ponce,” said his navigator. “The men have discovered something you should see.”

The ship and crew were three weeks out of the port of La Habana. As a reward for his faithful service as well as compensation at losing the governorship of Puerto Rico, El rey Fernando had commissioned him to search for new lands in what many still considered to be Asia, including his original captain, Cristóbal Colón, later named Colombus.

“Indeed, Diego,” said Juan Ponce de León. “Then you had better bring me to it.” “Sie, Señor.”

Three days earlier they had endured severe storms. The Santiago, de León’s lifeboat on the sea, was buffeted by them. He thanked the ship’s namesake and patron saint of Spain, Saint James, for safe passage. “Gracias, señor, y la temporada de Pascua,” he prayed silently. Thanks to you, Sir, and the Easter season.

The noble born man surnamed León surveyed the ship deck from his exalted position outside his cabin. The men were standing around what appeared to be a heap of foliage, recently drenched by the storm and dredged from the sea. Captain Ponce came down to investigate.

“We started seeing vegetation like this around the ship about an hour ago,” said Diago. “The wind is in the west and the storm has disrupted much foliage and sent it this way.”

Capitán Juan Ponce knelt to examine the soggy mass on the deck. It was composed of branches and a long, stringy moss. New leaves burst from brown shoots as if life itself drove them to erupt from the wood. A single white flower had recently opened. The captain plucked the flower, examined it, held it to his nose and inhaled.

“Let us go discover the origin of this gift of strange lands in the west, amigos,” he said. He returned to his cabin and further examined the white flower that the sea had brought him. It had a creamy, rose blush near the base which grew into a white magnificence at its tips. Though fragile in appearance, the flower’s petals were leathery, like everything else he had discovered in this new land. As fragile as Phoenician glass. As tough as Toledo steel.

He smelled it. A fragrance lingered that the sea could not erase.

Soon they discovered a coast that appeared to be all sand, white and glistening at night with twinkling phosphorescence. They mirrored the coast to the north until they found an estuary and bay carved further into the new lands. Around it was an explosion of magnolia trees, evergreens, mangroves, oaks, vines, and mosses. And everywhere in this Pascal season: Flowers.

“You have discovered a new island, sir,” said Diego as the men leaned over the tiny ship’s railing and wondered at the forest. A mist issued from its base and spread over the estuary like a mother blanketing her children. “What shall you call it?”

Capitán Juan Ponce de León, knight and conquistador, soldier of fortune and follower of Colombus, seeker of gold and silver and enslaver of the Taíno people of Hispaniola, governor of San Juan, later Puerto Rico until deposed by the son of Colombus, stood on the deck of his ship on a vernal morning and smelled a wilted white flower cupped in his hands. He thought of Pasqua florida, palm Sunday, which they had recently celebrated. “I shall call this place, The Flowering One,” he said.

“La Florida.”

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Sunrise over the Moors of Florida.

Florida is a strange sort of place. The cities are pretty much like every other city in the US, its citizens as dissatisfied with their government as everyone else. Of course, Florida has its unique flavor. Many parts of it are cosmopolitan, wealthy, and cultured. It is a tourism Mecca. Some are as backwards as a third world village. I live just north of Tampa in a town called Wesley Chapel. In case you are wondering, backwards or cosmopolitan? It’s a little of both.

Don't annoy the geese.

Seriously.

I’ve been here for about five years now, having moved from my native Connecticut after retiring from twenty-five years at the University of Connecticut. I had had enough of the New England weather and had family down here, so I became one of the legal migrants flowing southward, a trend that has picked up lately for numerous reasons. I am now officially a 'Floridiot.'

Here I live in a manufactured house. Everything is on one floor, so it will be easy as I age. I rarely ever visited the upper floor of my Cape Cod house in Canterbury, so the space was wasted and the taxes were excessive. And ironically, when I went to sell it the basement flooded for the first time since I moved there forty years ago. It couldn't have waited just six months? Now there is neither upstairs nor basement in my home. I don't miss them, though sometimes it does feel like I am living in a Hobbit house.

My workshop in Canterbury, which I built myself and of which I was quite proud, is now occupying my garage. I spend my time in quiet contemplation of the universe, woodworking, writing, travel and exploring Florida.

And walking around my little town.

Each morning at sunrise, before the heat of the day wakes up and takes notice, I walk three or four miles, about an hour and a half. In these days of Interstates and County roads, it’s hard to get a real sense of the placeness of any place. The charm, the peculiarity, the parochial, the danger, even. Everything is a blur on the way from house to store, to restaurant, to resort, to lumber yard, to city, to airport, to work (just kidding,) to post office, to theme park, and back home again.

It all started one day when I needed to return a book to the library.

New River library, one of Pasco County’s libraries, is just up Florida State Road 54, half way to the Home Depot and the Publix grocery store. I was about to hop in my Hyundai Sensory Deprivation Chamber and drive there when I thought, “It's just up the street a bit. Why not walk there?”

And so that’s what I did.

A lovely way to get around.

Traveling anywhere in America sans car is a challenge now. They don’t make it easy. Though there are crosswalks and lights, sidewalks and bicycle lanes, these can be oddly absent at times due to street limitations, changing pedestrian and bicycle regulations, and availability of space to build them all in. And of course, road traffic is not accustomed to sharing the road with anybody. Subways, buses, sidewalks, and biking lanes are not considered a legitimate mode of transportation in much of the US like they are in other parts of the world. Pity the poor pedestrian.

Balloon over Publix.

I hear they are often seen on Fridays.

The walk to the library was surprisingly easy and pleasant. Rt 54, like all roads in Florida, has been accumulating gas stations, car washes, strip malls, and housing developments like crazy barnacles since I moved here. I returned my book, checked out another one, and walked back home within an hour or so.

It was pleasant, if noisy with the traffic on Rt 54. I noticed things. The signs of workers-Rt 54 has been under renovation for God knows how long. You see signs. Spray paint on the dirt where light poles will go. Forms awaiting a concrete pour for a new sidewalk. Exit ramps, carefully built out for 20 feet only to end in a stand of trees. What's going there, I wonder? Another gas station?

I guess the ants like to move house a lot, too.

A few days later I needed something at Home Depot for a project I was working on. That’s typical for my projects. I run out of number 6 wood screws or need some small item to finish a task and pop off to the big box hardware store up the street. This time I walked there. Hell, if I could make it to the library, why not the corner store? I was surprised at how close it was.

Ducky's Day Off! What would Florida be without a trailer park?

Future site of the Vishweshwara Hindu temple.

After that I started walking in the morning. Just down a side street, along Rt 54 back toward a school, down another side street and I was back at my house again. Two miles in about 45 minutes. The next day I tried another route. The roads around my house all interconnect so I can walk anywhere from one to eight miles with little or no backtracking. Plus I can alter the route from day to day so I have the illusion of variety. I have a walking app on my phone. I shoot for about three to four miles a day which comes out to just shy of three miles an hour.

Not exactly aerobic. But it is a brisk walk for someone flirting with seventy years old and my average heart rate, taken over almost a year now, after a brisk walk down Brisk drive is 119/68 with a pulse of 70 beats per minute. And my head is clearer. Plus I can stop and pick up a few groceries or a box of hardware on my way. And take some photos of country life. It’s amazing what one sees when one is not watching the road all the time.

Security Horse.

The little one in the back is the leader. Or so he told me.

Going the opposite direction down Rt 54 away from the library and Home Depot is a housing project called Ashton Oaks. It is not a gated community, it’s just a 1950’s style housing development with clean, tiny lawns, sprinklers, working class heroes, and the occasional morning bicyclist or dog walker.

At the back of the complex, containing maybe a hundred houses, the road dumps off by a swamp and turns onto a dirt road. Curious, I followed it and found that it came back to my own road, New River Road, and then back to Brisk Drive where I began. Now I had loops both east and west of my house creating a paved figure eight with numerous side streets crisscrossing between them.


Friendly neighbors.


In case you didn't get it the first time.

Flowers over trailer park.

Good to know.

Either a cell phone tower or a martian from War of the Worlds.

The roads I walk on range from the Florida state road, that I already described, side streets like New River and Morris Bridge-Morris Bridge brings me down to SR 56 and closer to Kristin and Seeth’s-and back roads with a wide range of houses to, finally, dirt roads barely more than paths in places.

Speaking of which, down Brisk drive opposite to the path to Home Depot and Publix is a network of a few roads with names like, Alice, Loury, Linda and, going perpendicular to my house, Lado. Some of them, Lado in particular, are not maintained by the county. It was a paved road once and apparently maintained, but now it is falling into disrepair. The story I heard was this. Some time ago, I don’t know how long, the county came to residents of Lado road and said that they could maintain the road but that they, the people using it, would have to pay more taxes. There are not very many people living there and it wasn't worth the county's effort to maintain it without extra compensation, or so they said. The residents said, ‘No.’

‘OK,’ said the county. ‘Then it will be neglected.’

That’s the story I heard.

Since my house is on the corner of Brisk and Lado, and since my driveway is on Brisk, which is the more trafficked and populated, and therefore maintained, street, it didn’t affect me. And I wasn’t around at the time, anyway. My neighbors, though, are affected. A couple of years ago they bought some gravel and filled in the craters in front of their driveway. I told them they should put up a toll booth.

Heavy muscle.

And a new car wash. There are three on my walk now.

Mr. Bill E. Goat. And friend.

Limpkins, maybe?

But further down, on Alice and Loury streets, is a different matter…

This is what I can only describe as a low-income district. When I first moved here a house on Loury had a Confederate flag on a flagpole along with the American flag. I don’t remember which was higher. Other houses are ramshackle, with broken down appliances and long breached and empty above ground swimming pools on the grounds. There is moss on the roofs and dogs howling from-somewhere.

I have not been bothered anywhere I have walked, with one exception. The Confederate flag is gone, so I assume the house sold. I doubt the residents had a change of heart. But a change of location will do.

A view past my garage.

And looking the other way.

Park bench in Ashton Oak


Don't feed the alligators... especially with yourself.

A cozy camp fire.

Wanna build something?

Did anyone see my herd?

I'm warning you. I've got a puppy and I ain't afraid to use it!

Even the lawnmowers float down here.

Well, Duh!

Ashton Oaks is a pretty little community. I didn’t see a community center or a swimming pool, so it is not as extensive as others in Florida. There are seasonal decorations here and there. One house has a motion sensor in the driveway. The first time I encountered it was around Halloween. I was treated to a cackle and an, “I’ll get you, my pretty!” In December it morphed into a, “Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!” I think normally it just says, “Get off my lawn!” or something like that.

People here really love floodlights at night.

Yes, yes. I know. You're the protectors of the hacienda.

Fences make for good, er, geese?

Welcome to Crackertown.


One of the worst dumps.

This house really is the worst eyesore. The trash stayed there for weeks and a pickup truck came and went so someone actually lived there. The roof needed mowing as much as the lawn and the back yard looked ghastly.

Then, one day. It all disappeared. The cars, the trash, the clutter, the occupant. Now it's just abandoned. And on the other side of the road...

This house, nice, clean, tastefully decorated for the season, is just across the street. Like I said, Florida is a contradiction.

Ya got one job, Frostie.

Cell tower and moon at night.

Kids waiting for the bus.


Church of the Cell Tower.

They do keep up on road maintenance on some roads...

Well, I did say some.


Abandoned house returning to nature.

They seem to fill them as fast as the build them.

The only dog not locked up.

I routinely pass pedestrians, bicyclists, people waiting at bus stops, workers, and people walking their dogs. Sometimes the dogs bark-usually the small, yappy ones. Once a little bedroom slipper of a mutt snuck up behind me and issued a shrill, "YAP!"

On another street a rather intimidating black dog, I don’t know what breed, came out into the road and snarled and barked at me. That's the one exception I mentioned earlier. I filmed him with my cell phone and filmed the house he came out from, including the mailbox with the house number on it. I figured maybe the coroner would find it and avenge me.

Though he got too close for comfort and I didn’t appreciate that he was not contained he did not get close enough to me to bite. He just barked me past his property line. Since then I’ve noticed that he barks but does not come out into the yard. I hope his owner saw me filming him and made an effort to keep him off the street. Maybe it did some good, retroactively.

I could kill you if I wanted to.

Everyone has more lights on at night than a football stadium.

Ho, ho, BOO!

School time.

Every morning I am treated to a serenade of chickens, roosters, dogs, ducks, geese, horses, more dogs, crows, bulls, did I say dogs? and any amount of street racket. Some people wave from their cars. Walkers nod and say, ‘Good morning!’ in passing.

The people I meet are fairly even between black and white, children waiting for their bus, morning walkers, road workers, bicyclists and folks waiting for their bus. If allowed to we learn to get along. I wouldn’t say it’s Mayberry RFD but it’s enough to make one feel welcome.