No matter where you go
It’s Jazz Fest time, usually my favorite time of the year, and I’m a bit crabby or disinterested or both. Hard to say. My usual friendships feel abrasive, the crowds at Jazz Fest too excessive, and yet I’m humbled by what really pleases me these days. I’m ready to set up the family pool in the backyard and have afternoons of just hanging, chilling, and being contained in our postage stamp of a yard. But right now all of Rudy’s scaffolding and pipes and whatnots are packed into the yard, stored there from not finishing the work on the columns and now waiting for the Fest to be over to begin again. They will be gone soon and with them the Jazz Fest and with that hopefully this malaise.
Music always soothes my soul.
Tatjana left for her two weeks in Croatia to see her mom. And already the house is quiet. The dogs are on alert knowing the one who really cares for them has flown the coop.
My neighbor mowed our stretch of bayou today. It just makes the rest of the bayou look like a jungle. A neighbor wrote to the Times Picayune about the fact that the City failed to cut the grass for the Fest. It really looks like hell. Shame on the City. This was a real fall through the crack moment for them because if you add up all the money that the Fest brings to this City, well it’s a shame.
I went outside on the back steps and stared at the beautiful flowers – the Vitex, the Abutilon, the kitty whiskers, the native hydrangeas all blooming so pretty. A humming bird was attacking the Vitex like it was a free buffet.
Brass pass in hand, and here I sit sort of swimming in a sea of false starts.