canaveral

The Canaveral National Seashore is one of a few places where a harsher, more brutalist industrial-scale future intrudes into the timeline. Miles down the shore, as close as we can get at the safe distance keep-out fence line, there are launch towers, lightning towers, and enormous tanks of fuel softened in the moisture hazed morning air, hypnotized as Bob Ross used to say. It is before 8 AM and so hot; the Florida humidity is delivering on its reputation too, without even trying. Perspiration has nowhere to disperse to, my shirt sticks to me, damply. Even at this early hour though, families are playing on the beach, splashing in the gentle Atlantic waves, apparently unaware of the imminent space launch approaching the terminal countdown. The waves lap, the people play, and the clock advances. A few others have gathered with the fence keepers to see the future. We wait on the soft sand with the birds, the sand grass and scrub palm, for the next thing to come.

jg

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