By the way: SNOW

I have failed my loyal readership by not mentioning the snow in New Orleans.

I woke up on Thursday, December 11, 2008 to freezing cold rain and the beginnings of hail. By the time I made it to the coffee shop for my morning au lait and a bagel, actual snow. By the time I had to leave for work, actual snow that I could no longer deny. Snow in the city, which only happens once or twice a decade. If memory serves, the last time we got snow was 2005 (we were in Austin) and before that, I last remember snow circa 1982... somewhere, I have a photograph of a very small snowman, perhaps a foot tall to be generous, in the yard of my childhood home. I have a dim memory of having to gather snow from the entire yard in order to have enough.

Here are a few pictures.

Only in New Orleans can you have summer, fall, winter and spring all in the same week.

Mandatory Evac

Nagin is calling for a mandatory evac tomorrow. We are leaving in time to catch the contraflow around four am. Gustav looks to be twice the size of Katrina and will probably make landfall as a Category Four storm. For my out-of-state readers, WWL is a good source of facts.

It's a little harder to leave this time, since I know what we stand to lose. In the little house where we stay, all of the electrical was redone to be above the waterline, so there's a nice line around the room where you can look and say, "okay, everything below this line will be destroyed."

I sleep below sea level, but not this night.

Weather mine love

I love the rain.

Right now, we're in the middle of light showers moving from the Gulf across to Mississippi and beyond. I can hear the rain falling on the air conditioner and the roof, the wind blowing stray drops against the windows, the ebb and the flow of nature. Inside we have it cool, almost cold, and outside is warm and deliciously comforting. I watch insects flying between the raindrops, smell the damp earth and the wet, feel the near-subliminal spray of water on my arm as drops hit the fresh gutters above. If I had shoes on, I'd walk further than just the feel of damp mud-and-grit brick under my toes. I want the slick grass under my feet, but I know the dog craps in the yard. I'm breathing clear now, but the pressure and the mold or pollen kicked up by the water will hit me tomorrow, and I know I'll wake up with nearly-solid sinuses.

The weather reports that we got about a third of an inch of rain today, with a humidity of 91%.

There's a saying, older than but popularly attributed to Regan, about the causal value of the outside of a horse wrt the inside of a man, but now I can only kick back in five-dollar white lawn furniture and stare out into the night. I just am, blissful and content.