Fire and Ice? The Weird Season Wednesday, Oct 28 2020

A hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico?

Snow and ice on the plains?

All showing up on this radar screen shot on October 28, 2020?  Wow.  2020 is weird.

We’re blessed that, as ominous as this hurricane appears looming offshore along our coast almost due south of the house, the forecast track directs it farther to the east so that we have no real concern.  I can live with that: We’re storm-weary by now.

As for the front, it’s our meteorological savior from the hurricane.  The front will breeze through here late this afternoon/evening, chasing Hurricane Zeta off to the northeast.

What’s next in the weird weather world of 2020?  Two more months will reveal all.

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Patio Dwelling: Saturday Night Lights Saturday, Oct 24 2020

Saturday night patio dwelling.

Food, drink, fire, and football.

Geaux, Tigers!

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Fire Nostalgia Friday, Oct 16 2020

Seeing storm debris stacked along city streets for block after block during these past six weeks of “hurricane daze,” I recalled those days of yore when we used our fire  place.  Hurricanes were the most prolific purveyor of easy-to-get firewood imaginable, so after work those days, I’d load the chainsaw in the truck and cruise the woodpiles to gather up all of that free wood.

We abandoned the fireplace 5 or 6 years ago, and I never really missed it.  I’m getting to the age I don’t need that kind of exertion.  But seeing the piles of wood this past week gave me some pangs of nostalgia, especially now that I’ve got a truck again. 

So we bought a fire pit at Lowe’s a couple of days ago in anticipation of this first fall breeze of the season.  Then yesterday, we rounded up a few armloads of storm debris lying around the alley.  Today, I struck the match on the fire pit and “Voila!”

Not just like the old days but sufficiently  reminiscent.

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Delta Diary Sunday, Oct 11 2020

A carport by Delta in a neighborhood several blocks away: Thank God the car wasn’t underneath!

Yesterday, the morning after Delta, Sarah and I began the sweaty, muddy process of moving our affairs and furnishings back onto the patio. My neighbor across the street was raking storm debris in his yard with his auto speakers blaring a snappy Cajun two-step. Across the alley behind us, generators groaned in that unhappy part of the neighborhood where power was lost. Sarah called my attention to the contrasting tones. What a Louisiana moment! Two features of our culture clashed in this peculiar expression of what-it-means-to-live-in-South Louisiana.

Cajun music, yes.

Hurricanes, yes.

And the joie de vivre that makes us happy after we’ve been battered, physically and emotionally, by a violent act of nature? Well, not so much.

But yet I believe there’s something worthwhile to note in the contrast. Truly, we hate hurricanes, and truly we love our music (and food and fun and family). But the geographical and cultural inevitability of the “twain shall meet” tempers us in some strange, inexplicable manner. I view it in this manner: We accept Mother Nature’s elemental terms, not gaily but with clinched fists; at the same time, we cling to terms that are equally as elemental with our palms uplifted outward: faith, family, food, and fun.

In the end, by God’s grace, we prevail!

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Delta Dawn, What’s That Cone That You Have On? Thursday, Oct 8 2020

The tree and vegetation debris from Hurricane Laura at the end of August remains piled in heaps on an empty lot in town since the city ran out of places for disposal. Some debris even remains stacked and piled in front of homes, having lain curbside for weeks, waiting to be picked up. And now, here comes Delta.

The City ran out of places for storm debris disposal after Laura six weeks ago.

So this afternoon, now we rest from stowing the patio furniture and other storm prep routines (again!) on the eve of Hurricane Delta, as we’re snugly situated in what’s no longer the cone of uncertainty—-it’s the cone of certainty.

We ran out of human names for our hurricanes four storms ago. Now we’re wading through the Greek alphabet. (Does this have anything to do with alphabet soup?)

And tomorrow’s event will be the fifth tropical system to make landfall in Louisiana this season—Incredible and unbelievable in my almost seven decades living along the Gulf Coast.

I could definitely grow weary of this routine. In fact, I believe I am!

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Pandemic Daze: A Rare Visit Sunday, Oct 4 2020

The last time we visited Mama in person was February 15.  A few weeks after that visit,  the governor’s executive order shut down nursing and extended care facility visiting privileges.  Those poor old folks have been living in the strange isolation of quarantine until a couple of weeks ago when the governor lifted the order.  Their comings and goings are still highly regulated, but at least family can visit in person.

So last Friday, not quite seven months since our last time to see Mama in person, we got in!  For our luncheon visit, Sarah fixed an orzo salad and got boiled crawfish soup from Champagnes.

I have realized that since my mother is 95 years old and lives 120 miles away, every visit is golden—- moreso in this bizarre season of Covid-19.

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