In the French Market

Louisiana sluffed off the chillier weather and temperate breezes blow gently through blue-sky days. The morning routine starts at 7 or 8 am (5 or 6 am Pacific Time), coffee with chicory, shutters opened to let in the light of the day. Door left open to let subtle street sounds and the gurgle of the water fountains next door waft through the cracks of the shutters. For the hundredth time, Jamie or I will say, I can’t believe we’re living here, in this gorgeous house & this beautiful life!

We dress in breezy summer clothes, I’ve taken to a bright teal-blue scarf that makes me dream of traveling to India soon (I watched a documentary on India where they mentioned that saris were bright to reflect the true color and feeling of the soul. It’s fun to wrap myself in brightness.) We walk down to the square or to better coffee, it’s a series leisurely morning since 9pm PST is still hours away. We come up with one or two “tasks” to accomplish each day, discovering a new corner or alley or secret of town, every day a new character to greet, a new surprise.

This morning, located a block from the river, below the river wall, in the French Quarter is the French Market. A haphazard arrangement of tables and stalls. Colorful venders display more colorful wares. The typical faux designer purses and satchels, sunglasses and shoes precede the more interesting things. My eye catches tiny perfume bottles, handmade voodoo dolls, alligator heads! A man who tells us about taking old business logos of Louisiana and popping them on cork coasters. He and his wife started the business with their favorites. Now they bring him their old bags and logos, as the Wal-Marts and big box stores encroach from the surrounding bayou, so they'll always be remembered.