Come on Ike we are listening. We are listening all day and all night to the howling and whistling wind as it seeks its way around every corner of the house. We are paying attention to the drops of rain forced under the door and the rattling windows and trees and shaking walls. The lights come on the lights go off 10 days without electricity. A perfect time to practice simple living. That is if I could see my way around the house with its boarded up windows.
I went into the night to feel the winds. Clutching my camera, I wanted to get a picture of the super tanker anchored behind my house. Up and down the Mississippi river, ships sought safe harbor from the giant storm that swallowed the Gulf. Their lights lit up our powerless dark banks. The tanker had the only light with the stars and moon hidden by the rotating clouds of Ike. With the lack of light, the shutter speed of my camera was very slow and no matter how tight I clutched it and how much I braced, this was the most clear shot I could get. Perfectly fitting. Blackness and movement.
"Joc-a-mo-fee-no-ah-nah-nay, Joc-a-mo-fee-nah-nay" is a ritual chant used by the Mardi Gras Indians which has been around for so long the words are no longer clearly distinguishable, and it has a well understood meaning of its own. Very, very loosely translated it signifies "we mean business" or "don't mess with us". Originally it would have been Cajun (a liberal mix of French and English) and literally translates to "the fool we will not play today".
We will not play the fool any longer. No more will we take lightly the strength you pack in your spinning bands. We will be prepared for you.
My white crookneck cushaw I picked. It weighed 21.6 lbs. Wow. Now to cook and can this baby!!!