A Caged Life

 In Florida, they live in cages.  The porches are caged, the swimming pools are caged.

The cages, big, ungainly structures, tower over the pools, sometimes enclosing a whole back garden. Here in Venice, where charming little beach houses were originally built in the 1940s, the old places are gradually being done up and added to, or pulled down and replaced, not always for the better. Simple pastel cottages are being superseded by mini McMansions with column flanking the entrance and manicured lawns.

A mini McMansion in progress....

And the cages are everywhere. Rows of them, sometimes, enclosing ridiculously small swimming pools. But it seems each house has, or wants to have a pool. And back porches called "lanais" are screened with ugly wire mesh. Now in January, I can't see the point but apparently in summer the insects are out in droves.
    It could be part of the gated community syndrome, itself a form of cage too. We visited someone the other day and had to run the gauntlet of a uniformed guard in a massive sentry box. What are they all afraid of? That's why I like where we're based - still a normal little neighbourhood but for how long?

The cages give me a feeling of being in a zoo - literally inside, while nature amuses itself with a ready-made climbing frame.  We're the exhibits here.

Oooh look, Fred! There's one having its coffee!