My neighbor, George, disappeared again last week and his owner went out walking the streets to find him. In my opinion, George was uncreative in what he chose to do with his freedom. He just went out and met another dog. The man only walked five blocks before spotting him outside the fence of a yard that held a Pomeranian.

"So you found yourself a girlfriend," the man said as he walked up on George, who greeted him briefly and then continued sniffing the Pomeranian's nose, like a dog.

(Dogs are so sociable; they have so many friends. I would be uncomfortable touching the nose of of a stranger but they seem to love it.)

The man wasn't angry with him and George, having found another dog, briefly forgot about the scene from the previous night. Fortunate for me because I'm always the one George barks to about whatever's going on, even though I act uninterested and go about my business.

One morning, they forgot what they were doing. The flowers needed watering, the stacks, organizing. Nobody could find their shoes. They washed and they washed and they washed but it wouldn't come out.

Once upon a time there was a story, which shortly thereafter came to an end. There was a lovely funeral, in the spring, the Camelias arching their soft, blossoming branches toward a tiny grave, and a few mourners standing respectfully, not crying, but celebrating. They wished their sweaters were lighter, their schedules less packed. They wished that they had truly known the story as it was, instead of always trying to give it direction, helpful nudging. Still, they celebrated that the story existed; though awkward and bumbling with too-long pants, he he had once been alive for them and they treasured their memories of him for many years.

Who Makes These Things?

I really liked this one. That painting by impressionist Mary Cassatt has always been one of my favorite paintings. It was one of the paintings my mom and dad pointed out to me when we visited whatever museum we were in; paintings with children and dogs were, reasonably, the only paintings I was interested in and this and several other paintings kept me from falling asleep in some corner of the museum.

Happenin'

Jukin' and Capitol Viewin'

Saturday we went to Teddy's Juke Joint, a small club near Zachary, LA and there we saw blues musician Eden Brent play. Teddy was present, in his cowboy hat. The club is the house that Teddy grew up in and where he has been operating his joint for 32 years. These colored lights surround Teddy's dj booth where he plays records between sets and romances you in a low-toned voice. Click here to view pictures of Teddy on his site!






Earlier on Saturday we went to the state capitol building, which has an open observation deck on the 27th floor. Two elevators got us up there and we could see everything from LSU to the Spanish arsenal in the park beside the capitol to the vats of boiling oil farther down the river.



That last one is the Pentagon Barracks, the original site of LSU. There were five buildings but one burned down.

And here's a picture of Doc Watson who performed wonderfully at Jazzfest in New Orleans on Friday. He's the one on the right.

Fuschia Flower, Tea Rose, New Bed

Fuschia Flower



Hybrid Tea Rose





Can you believe these are the same roses in a different light?



New flowerbed built with castle stones



This bed was made possible by Gerard Davidson, Jan Green and Janet Ward Black. The blue planter was underwritten by Noel K-S.

New Orleans