A cool evening, after an afternoon of heating showers. I’m sitting on the patio listening to the mockingbirds. Towards sundown they love to sit atop trees and sing. I have been watching one as its throat catches the now horizontal rays of light. I can smell the cedars around the patio . . . .Yesterday I went to town and shopped. The French Quarter is even tawdrier on a Saturday . . . . I went to town to shop because the thrift stores have only polyester clothes. In this climate, wearing spun plastic seems absurd. Yet in the heart of one of the richest cotton-growing areas in the world, we wear petroleum-based clothes, and cotton is priced out of sight. In the height of Louisiana strawberry season, I could buy only jumbo, tasteless, California berries. Why? Profit, market.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment