Culebra Meanderings

I know I've mentioned it before, and I'm still not sure of the reason, but it is very popular here to hang clothes on the fence and because I see it a lot, I always wonder about it. Not just life jackets, like here, but all the laundry. I've had lots of theories, and I could just ask, but why ask why sometimes is the best way to go. I know if I tried that, there would be big rust stains and tears next to the ant bitten holes, but I never see any of those on the clothes here. It must be a secret. Another Culebra mystery. That's a good thing.

Heading to town, at the pace of walking, I could see more signs of Spring. Even though it has been warm and dry and windy (even with the occasional rain, any moisture would dry up really quickly), the trees keep blooming, the leaves emerge, the mangoes - except mine - are full of spiky growth, bougainvilleas burst with brightness. I don't know how that happens, but it does, year after year. Culebra is its own little microcosm much of the time, weather reports from the big island or Vieques don't mean much and it is best just to go outside and look around if you want to know what might happen next. That works. Most of the time.

Poor man's orchid, one of my favorite trees

I know we have visitors here, but town felt really quiet. It felt really quiet in the night too, except for the occasional political sound truck booming. All the music sounds the same to me, just with different names inserted. And it's not a great tune to have stuck in your head, trust me on this. Play some good salsa, I'll consider voting for you!

How we guard the Post Office

A little farther down the street, a little boy asked me if the dogs were nice or if they would bite. I told him I thought they seemed like safe dogs to walk around, but not to pet a dog he didn't know. He nodded seriously, like it was pretty fair advice for humans too.

This is not town. Or a boy or a dog. It is an egret looking through a fence. I just like it.

I was at the end of the street, marking the end of my errands, in the bank. Standing in line in front of me, a man's cell phone rang. The ring was the song Don't Worry, Be Happy. At first, I thought it was being played by the bank, an idea that might work, (though when I suggested it, Moyra suggested it might drive her crazy if she had to listen to it all day - yeah, I can see that). But it was a great tune to hear in the bank, waiting in a very short line, looking out the window at the busy ferry dock and a sailboat anchored and shifting with the breeze. I like our bank; it's almost as good as the Post Office for seeing friends, passing the time easily. Well, unless you get behind someone actually doing a lot of banking business. The last time that happened, even the most relaxed in line started getting a little twitchy, knowing there would be an extra long wait. The person said, "What? Just because I have a lot of money, I should let you all go ahead of me?" No one said yes. No one said no. No one said anything out loud, but there were a lot of grins. I take it back, I love our bank.

Have a give your teller a grin Tuesday. Do something transparent.