Yesterday, Tin was drumming on the front door wanting to go out out out but the rains were coming down in a deluge that could only be imagined by someone contemplating the end of the world and Noah and arks. We live here in New Orleans on the edges as the sub for Michele was telling us in yoga – her name is Jackie and she works with Angola prisoners who are mainly in solitary confinement, and their families. Life on the edge and so we have to find our center and make sure it is strong as a tree trunk – a live oak whose roots are constantly finding itself ankle deep in water. We swing from Fat Tuesday to Ash Wednesday in a 24 hour period, we have rainstorms that come so fast and so hard that the city cannot accommodate the water and it rises and we pump and it rises; we have heat that withers even the hardiest and we swing from harsh sun to black clouds in the blink of an eye. Life on the edge begets a type of person that is found perhaps in no other U.S. city.
It’s raining again today, but this morning I was able to get out before the rain started and go for a long walk through City Park with Loca and Heidi who were itching to get outside. Heidi having worn down one side of her canines because she hated being in the kennel while we were gone to Spain and Morocco. There were pools of water under most of the large oaks in the park and the lagoon was so still the ducks seemed to be ice skating across a hard surface.
But there had been a drought – we came home from our trip to find the mint dead, the hydrangeas dead, and everything else looking in need of water – so water we are getting – three days of steady endless rain and thunderstorms that really levitate you. This feels more like New Orleans albeit usually it is moderated over one severe thunderstorm a day – usually mid afternoon – but having gone for a while without any rain, I guess we are swinging to the other edge – too much rain – to make up for it.