a stroll to the newsracks

Much different from days these past few weeks, today's weather was warm and sunny and it was easy to strike out towards the newsracks located beside the Martin County Golf Course on St. Lucie Boulevard.

However, the brown recycling bin lying in a wood lot along that roadway remains without retrieval, years now, causing anxiety among older women especially and also by extension among older men (following a certain 'Snapped' TV segment).

Toadskins galore, the rescue of a wriggling worm on a hot sidewalk, and distribution of 'unsightly' yet live-seed small mangos continued, as did pick-up of brown beer-bottle glass. Youths on bicycles again monitored my walk past small piles of small mangoes heaped with other yard trimmings along the berm. 'Sunday drives' were evident, and boaters could be seen navigating the St. Lucie River as sighted through the few openings between private newly-rebuilt homes along the boulevard. Following from the theory that hurricanes can be deliberately caused, most old wooden shoreside dwellings have been replaced after the 2004 hurricanes and also augmented with cement-block structures.

The slough that continues waterflow from the retention pond near the SE Ocean Boulevard condo complexes merges sluggishly with the river, and the slough area has an odor which is very similar to that nearby the Indian River lagoon (i.e., rotting vegetation), brown and muddy water chock full with aquatic wildlife with little or no actual flow at the confluence with the river.

I decided to purchase my own vinyl swimming pool at Walgreen's (a special sale item, "made in China", printed within the store's weekly newspaper advertising supplement) and use it as a 'cool tub' on the grassy area near the condo-unit's hose installation, concurrent with an Amber Alert describing the carry-away of a two-year-old boy in Miami.

The newsracks are a surprise near the golf course, but hold useful information that will hold an elder's attention. An aging disposable lighter, with blue paint rubbed off all but the slender sides of its little container, lay mostly black and some liquid yet sloshed when shaken while ignition-parts deteriorated in the sandy roadside berm extended over the slough at the side of St. Lucie Boulevard where the river influxes (where did I put it next? ... in one of the trash dumpsters within Kingswood condo complex, laid carefully atop a dimpled plastic trash bag.)