Coming from a city where you count cows and sheep, horses and goats on your drive to school, it’s a bit of a change moving to a city where the homeowners themselves describe their yards/lots as “postage stamp” size. I’ll admit I felt a tad claustrophobic at first, not being able to issue my standard “Get Your Wiggles Out” command: OK kids, run three times around the yard and then finish your homework! But after a few days, I eased into our current state of affairs with a sense of peace. We are doubly blessed in our rental to have both a courtyard and a balcony overlooking said courtyard. Two architectural distinctions that virtually scream “New Orleans!” and delight me to no end. (At this point you are envisioning the balcony of a southern plantation and you can most certainly keep that image in your mind, but know that OUR balcony is such that you must hold your breath if two people are to fit while you pray that the French doors’ detached shutter does not tilt forward and push you to your death on the brick pavement below.) That being said, it is our very special little corner of this new world and we are quite fond of it.
The courtyard is brick, has bamboo shoots extending heavenward which block our view of the bordering apartment complexes and occasional police visits. (Don’t panic Mom, it was like, one time…two tops…) The palmettos are surrounded by Birds of Paradise as well as actual birds. A patio table and charcoal grill and baker’s rack (?) and horse adorned weather vane (?) fill out the ensemble. One enters the courtyard through two sets of French doors lined with two sets of wrought iron gates. (Our key chain has four separate keys for all the doors and gates, which I find amusing and comforting at the same time.)
Our carport has a brick pillar on which there is yet another locked door. The pillar doubles as an outdoor storage closet, as garages are few and far between. The Bug and the Pea have found gardening equipment within the “secret” pillar closet. (I’ve told the girls a garden gnome named Nola lives among the shovels and rakes. One way to quiet the kids on the car ride to school is to entertain them with stories of my most recent encounter with Nola Gnome. They laugh and roll their eyes, but always open the pillar door slowly and quietly so as not to disturb the red pointy-hatted resident…)
Anyhooooooo, they cart the garden tools to the courtyard and weed and rake as if they are Annie Lennox and Dickins with a Secret Garden of their own. I’m quite sure will have our own wild menagerie in the near future. When I called the Bug and the Pea in for dinner, I noticed the two had assembled a virtual smorgasbord of fresh produce for the passing wildlife. (I’m serious, magnolia leaf plates of raspberries, blueberries, strawberries and a flower pot bowl of bottled water! “Do you think I’m made of money?” I was tempted to shout, but calmed myself and showed them where the special “bird food” bread was stored for future use. But I digress…)
A few days ago, I undid the lock at the top of the French doors and a lizard fell into my hair. While I don’t DO snakes, I am rather fond of lizards and pulled him easily from my hair to show the girls. At which point an argument ensued about how The Pea held the lizard for 10 seconds and The Bug only “got” 8 seconds and so the world was going to come to a screeching halt etc. at which point (mercifully) the lizard leaped to his freedom and scurried over the bricks and into the leaves. Each day the kids look for Mr. Lizard as they weed and dig and set out a buffet for the birds. One day they stumbled upon a tiny reptilian skeleton- which they promptly presented to our first Kentucky visitor, “Look Mr. David! Lizard innards!” Oh to be seven, again.
When the Bug and the Pea need to “get their wiggles out” we simply head to a park. They climb trees with low lying branches and dangling Spanish moss while pelicans and sea gulls fly by. The Pea likes to collect piles of moss which she proudly calls “the funk” and construct ginormous nests for humans pretending to be birds. Sometimes she’ll organize a group of unsuspecting children to help gather acorns to store away for hibernation.
The other day I popped open the trunk to put in bags of groceries and I discovered a pile of Spanish moss, undoubtedly stashed there by my youngest. (“Uh, Sweet Pea…you wanna explain the pile of Funk in my Trunk?)
Today promises a high in the 70’s. We plan to explore several new (to us) parks and historical sites. On the way we won’t be able to count cows, pigs, sheep, goats or barns. But we’ll make up for it with balconies, courtyards, palm trees and pelicans. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll be lucky and another lizard will drop out of the sky into my hair for an afternoon of rollicking rib tickling fun here in the Big Easy. In the words of Little Orphan Annie (as the Pea sings over and over and over and over again to me….) “I think I’m gonna like it here!”
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