I Could Get Used to This-Part One

Another Sno-ball from Hansen's. The sno-ball season is ending, and I have managed to pack in three trips total during the dwindling, haggard end of summer, which is walking away like a tired, old dog, slow, but still quite present.

The line today seemed to stretch out into infinity, due to the staff drawing out their time, knowing today was the final day, the last mile, extending each customer's visit by making conversation. I allowed the wait to be one of meditation; a long moment to stand in the sun and let the warmth awash my body, thankful I live in such warm climes. However, by the time I got to the front about half an hour later, I definitely needed to cool down, and I wistfully began thinking of fall...how the leaves change color and the air begins to cool down, harkening the call for jackets...how the crisp smell of autumn is searing, and how the air is tinged with a sort of smokiness.

This feeling didn't last long, mind you. I ordered a "Hot Rod" this time, (a sno-ball with a scoop of ice cream in the middle.) Nothing was "hot" about it. I loved how the vanilla ice cream provided a brief relief from the searing, icy cold of the chocolate snow. "What do they put in these things?" I wondered. "Fairy dust?" It still made me ridiculously happy and cold inside. I felt the coldness emanating through my core out to my pores, turning me into a human icicle. 

I could get used to this.

I find it odd, yet delightfully amusing, how many storefronts advertise, "Prepare for fall!" "Fall is here!" and how there are Halloween decorations everywhere. New Orleanians take Halloween very seriously, but I have not even begun to think of my costume yet. How can I, when the sun is shining brightly outside, and the greenery refuses to quit? It is not fall. Not even close. It will still be in the 70's through November, not that I mind this at all. What will Thanksgiving be like without bitter cold? What will my birthday be like? Will I actually be able to do something outside on December 18th for a change?

I could get used to this.

Yesterday, I finally fixed up my bike, (that's right, I can handle a wrench! Who knew?), and I rode through Audubon Park. The trees swayed gracefully overhead, and I sped past other bikers and walkers, gleeful of seeing a palate of greens and blues and browns collide and swirl past my view. Manmade lakes dotted the terrain, and gazebos held lovers holding hands. I momentarily wondered if I'd ever get to do the same. 

I pushed along and arrived at the Fly, a beautiful area of Audubon park, near the zoo, where people play frisbee and walk their dogs, and college students play loud music and drink beer. I wasn't paying any attention to the clutter of sound and action. My attention was robbed by the beautiful vistas of the Big Muddy, the Mississippi River. The river pulsed slowly along, the current looking strong, and certain.

Again, I marveled over my good fortune of living so close to water. I need to live near water. Sometimes I wonder if instead of blood coursing through my veins, I have river water, and sea water, and waters of the estuaries giving me life. (For those of you who don't know, I attended a maritime studies program almost two years ago, and that's when I really gained an appreciation for water. http://ireadlips.blogspot.com/?spref=fb)

Something about water just hypnotizes us, and has a strong hold on us. We have always relied on water for transportation and sustenance. Rivers and seas gave birth to ancient civilizations, and even today, population density is highest in areas close to water. And if we trace back even further, the seas gave birth to humanity, a cesspool of atoms, coming together to form single cells, and then multi-celled organisms, which came crawling out, gasping onto land.

I sailed by the Mississippi on my bike, wishing I could dive in, and jump onto a steam boat. I wished I could travel back in time, and team up with Davy Crockett, and work on a keelboat. Ah, how I love living near water!

I could get used to this.