Sometimes New Orleans feels like a city with urban problems of population and planning. Other times it feels like a small town where everyone knows everyone else’s business and you see the same people over and over again, even if in different contexts. And It always feels like a place in flux. But tonight New Orleans felt like the tropics. I saved my bike ride for the evening when I rode to a pizza place for dinner and then to the Saint for A.’s pinball challenge. I then went to the Half Moon for darts versus A. and N. I ended with a tipsy ride home by night, the air filled with the sound of croaking frogs. Usually when I hear these sounds, I figure I won’t see the culprits. My fireplace sounds like bats, but I see no bats, thank God. The tree outside my house vibrates with noise, but I never see whatever causes it. Tonight I heard the tell-tale croaking of frogs; I wanted to see the frogs, prove where the sound was coming from. This ended up being a ridiculously easy task. The gutter on Annunciation was full of them, including this fellow, all puffed up with sound. I was reminded tonight that I am not the only one who chooses to call this hot, wet, humid place, home. I’m happy to share.
With deference to your wonderful writings about what you saw while, cycling, here are the critters that I encountered…
http://awilliams53.blogspot.com/2008/07/what-i-saw-on-my-bike-today.html
i held my hand over the photo and it was OK, although i did of course catch a glimpse. i’m glad you documented this so that now i don’t have to take photographs of all those smashed ones that i kept telling you and Sean about. they are everywhere. i almost feel a little sorry for them.