Farewell Gustav; Be Gone Ike!!!

It's 1:53pm. I just went outside to get some things from my car, and I can really see the effects of Hurricane Ike. It's extremely windy; I can hear its wooshing. There is also the flapping sound of loose tarpaper on some of my neighbors' houses that are still being repaired. I see a piece of loose weatherboard, in one of the yards, that I don't think was there before.

This morning, I could see the grey sky, letting me know rain was coming, and I wasn't disappointed, as it has rained here three times today. My contractor was proof of the rain, as he arrived late, and soaked, for our appointment. He had gone, in the rain, over to my sister's house to make a minor rain-preventive repair from some Gustav damage.

This is the first time I can truly say that I'm getting my head around this "hurricane season" thing. Periodically checking "The Weather Channel" for new of Hurricane Ike, while watching the weather outside your sunroom window, and waiting for you contractor to come out and check your Hurricane Gustav-damaged fence, kinda keeps the "season" on your mind. But, and this may sound abrasive to some, I think I'm coming to terms with this...this suspense, of sorts. And, by that, I really mean that I am actually not living in suspense. I'm hanging my newly purchased curtains; I'm potting my plants, I'm hanging my artwork. I'm going on with getting my house back in order ... in spite of Gustav, in spite of Ike!

Back Home

Sitting in my sunroom earlier today, I could see the effects of now Tropical Storm Fay. Very windy; a lot of rain. Got home from a trip to Atlanta, Ga. on yesterday. Have to catch up with my gardening. I think centipede grass is trying to take over my empty vegetable plots! A good thing, though, is that I may have discovered something about my Meyer Lemon tree. I overwatered it, just in case my son could not get over to water it, and came back to quite a few new branches. Maybe I'm not giving it enough water. Will experiment with that.

The Crescent City's Crescent Moon

I'm in my sunroom; it's 8:35 pm. This is the first time I've seen a crescent moon from my sunroom. It's the tiniest sliver of a moon, and it's sitting in the western sky. Now that I can sit in my sunroom for hours at a time, I am more aware of the earth's rotation, as the moon is slowly moving across the sky.

Note: One of New Orleans' nicknames is the Crescent City, because a "crescent" of the course of the Mississippi River runs through it.

Birds Strutting Their Stuff

I wasn't going to mention this but, since it happened twice, I thouhgt I'd note it.

This morning, while I was checking some accounts, I looked up and saw a big bluejay (I think it was female, or maybe young, because it was more grey than blue) hop across the top of my wooden fence. What made it interesting was that it hopped, from one board to the next, for about 50 feet. I smiled to myself, and went back to my work. Just now, a mourning dove flew to the fence, and did the same thing; walking for about 15 feet. The odd thing is that the bluejay hopped, but the dove walked. Interesting. Oh, the bluejay is back; gotta go...

Thriving Baby Banana

I came out into my sunroom to check my email and library accounts (trying to keep the fines down!). It's raining, and this is cool -the rain is coming in from the South, and only hitting two sides of my sunroom, so the windows on the north side are completely dry. And, guess what! As I'm panning my gaze from South to West to North, watching the rain, I notice a new 10" leaf has unfurled on my baby banana! The first picture shows the tree newly planted (07/09/08), just after my friend Wendy gave it to me. Over the next few days, the two outer leaves died away and, since then, I've been watering and feeding, all the while chanting the mantra, "Please don't die, please, please don't die." And look, a new leaf (2nd pic)!

Fleeting Sunset

It's 8:00 p.m. in New Orleans. I'm watchting the prettiest sunset. As my eyes travel downward, from the highest lavender-blue point in the sky, the sky gradually changes to pink, deep pink, deep sky blue, then lavender again, the last color appearing to sit just above the tops of the trees. At 8:11, there's just a deep pink strip between two dark blue shades. It's now 8:14, and the lower part of the sky is just a pink-purple, slowly fading to dark blue.

The saddest part about watching these sunsets, is that my camera, and my words, cannot do them justice.

Keeping Watch

I just walked out into my sunroom. I can see across a vacant lot to the next block. Two young boys, about 12 years old, are playing on a mound of sand at a home repair construction site. The driver of a passing pickup truck stopped, wagged his finger at them, gave them a tongue lashing, before sending them on their way, and then, continued on his way. I don't know if the man is a neighbor looking out for a friend's property, or looking out for the welfare and safety of the boys, but it's good to see. Ah, some discipline is alive and well!

BTW, I'm in New Orleans, Louisiana, where Hurricane Katrina destroyed hundreds of thousands of homes (200,000 according to Nat'l Assoc. of Homebuilders), and construction sites are far too common. Keep an eye out for your neighbor; keep an eye out for your children.

New Construction on an Old City

Right now, I'm listening to this great New Orleans music while looking at some construction workers repair a house approximately three blocks away. My house, thus my sunroom, sits on 2' pilings, as many N. O. homes do, and I can see over my privacy fence, past an empty lot, where another damaged house was torn down. That construction is a great thing to see, reminding me that everyday, progress is being made.

After Hurricane Katrina, no one (even though they tried) could have convinced me that we would still be struggling to get our neighboorhoods back to some kind of normalcy three years after that 2005 storm. But, here we are - here I am - with 9 houses, out of 40 on my block, finally up and running. Not that I'm complaining; every new step forward delights me!

I'm still looking past the vacant back lot, and I can see that my neghbor has forgotten to turn off a security light. It's extremely sensitive to every little puff of wind, and is constantly going on and off; this also happens throughout the night. I guess most people would consider that an annoyance, but it just reminds me that people are back in N. O., and back in their homes.

The View from Here

The View From Here

I've decided to do several blogs about the view from my sunroom. I guess my initial intent is to capture life in my neighborhood and city, although I think I really could do a complete series on the life within actual seeing distance of this room. With that said, I would like to describe my sunroom, where most of the blogging will occur. In hindsight, I really don't know why I didn't just make my whole house one big sunroom, as this is where I spend 90% of my free time, such that it is. You see, I am a recently retired accountant, from Shell Exploration and Production Co., and Karen, a friend of mine, has a theory: my family and friends have a "to do" list for me that is being safeguarded by someone out of town. At first, she thought it might be my son Christopher, who lives in Lake Charles, LA, but we decided that he wouldn't do that to me. Then, she thought maybe Jewel, my niece in Atlanta, GA, since she's so good at organizing. That's a possibility, but we still have other usual suspects (and they know who they are!). Ummmm? But, I digress...

I designed, and added, this sunroom while I was repairing my Katrina-ravaged home. I could not have imagined the pleasure I would get from sitting in this humble room. I label it as humble because I don't want to give the wrong impression. When I talk about this room to anyone, I have to tone down my exuberance. It even sounds fabulous to me, when it is merely a 12' x 17' room at the back of my house. There are 5 windows and a glass door across the back of the room, with 3 windows on each side. The windows sit above a 29" kneewall, my only regret, as I think it would have been better to have the windows extend to the floor. The room faces the west, and the sun is brutal between 5 and 7 in the evening, but shades that I have purchased (but not yet installed) will take care of that.

Just beyond my sunroom, my backyard is enclosed in a 6" privacy fence. I miss the openess that a chainlink fence afforded me, giving the impression that all of the adjoining yards were bigger, but the privacy fence takes away a bit of the busyness of the other yards, which is too distracting from a sunroom window. Directly behind my house is an empty lot, that I hope will stay empty (no such luck, I know). The owners, I think, plan to put up a modular home, and city codes dictate that new structures be raised 5 feet(?). So much for the view! Diagonally right, my neighbor Veronica has raised her house; her 5' high deck has full view inside my sunroom in winter, but a large Chinese Tallow tree gives me some privacy in summer. So far, this has not bothered me. Right of me is Mr. Dennis, who plans to repair his home, and replant his backyard with fruit trees that used to keep me supplied with satsumas, kumquats, and miniature pomegranates.

Other than my bed, this is the first room for which I've purchased furniture. After weeks of research, I decided on a seating/conversation set from Sears and a dining set from Walmart, both great buys that most efficiently fit my area. Everything else in this room reminds me of some friend or family member who made a contribution to my enjoyment.

• The door is full of fingerprints that remind me (in a good way) of family and friends who have already so often passed through..


• My plants, a Meyer Lemon from my son Kevin and his wife Rheesa, and a banana plant from my friend Wendy, both causing me a bit of worry, since I refuse to plant them outside.

• The candle that Chris, my younger son, and his girlfriend Leanne, gave me to replace the one I lost in Katrina.

• The rocking chair I recovered from my mom's damaged house.

• The rug I bought, while vacationing in Williamsburg, VA, with friends, Karen and Clarence.

• The window sill items: a "believe" plaque from my sister Evangeline's friend (and mine, too) Celie; a "There's No Place Like Home" plaque from Judy, a co-worker; and a ceramic bird candleholder that I purchased while shopping with my friend Barbara.

So, as you can see, this is a very special place. I can't wait to tell you of the goings-on in the world outside this New Orleans sunroom.

Stepping Out

Stepping Out
Just beyond my sunroom, my backyard is enclosed in a 6' privacy fence. I miss the openess that a chainlink fence afforded me. Chainlink gave the impression that all of the adjoining yards were bigger, but the privacy fence elininates a bit of the busyness of the other yards, which is too distracting for a sunroom window.
Directly behind my house is an empty lot, that I hope will stay empty (no such luck, I know). The owners, I think, plan to put up a modular home, and city codes dictate that new structures be raised 5 feet(?). So much for the view!
Diagonally right, my neighbor Veronica has raised her house; her 5' high deck has full view inside my sunroom in winter, but a large Chinese Tallow tree gives me some privacy in summer. So far, this has not bothered me.
Right of me is Mr. Dennis, who plans to repair his home, and replant his backyard with fruit trees that used to keep me supplied with satsumas, kumquats, miniature pomegranates, and even sugar cane!
Diagonally left, I do not know those neighbors; they haven't returned, yet. There is an oak tree in the yard. It's storm-damaged, but seems to be recovering, housing quite a few birds. For two days, I've seen what I think is a red-shouldered hawk. It's quite large, and has taken a liking to the uppermost branch of the oak. Several mockingbirds are determined to show the hawk that he/she is not welcome. They squawk and loudly chirp, swooping in as close as 10 inches of the hawk, before turning tail, and retreating. This doesn't appear to phase the hawk, but after quite a few minutes, the hawk takes off. Once that happens, one of the mockingbirds flies after it, with an attitude of, "You'd better run!," but I know it would probably faint in flight if that hawk turned on it.
On my left is Mr. Constentino, an opera buff. My heart hurt for him when I found out that he lost a lot of his music library. I empathize; I lost hundreds of books. But, loss is relative; at least I didn't lose a neighbor. I can still wave to him, talk too Veronica over - well, though - the fence, and get gardening advice from Mr. Dennis. And, even though my backyard neighbors will obscure my view, I look forward to seeing them, and all the others, through my sunroom windows.