A Word to the Mule
Straight from the Horse's Mouth.
It was January 23, 2002, and I had a mission. I perched my person on the northeast corner of Decatur and St. Peter in New Orleans with the objective of getting a picture of a carriage mule at the hitching post on the southeast corner. Though some will disagree, I must have been living right, because a few minutes after I took up my post, foot and vehicular traffic cleared for the few seconds necessary to grab a few exposures. After the last click, the hordes materialized again, placing a wall of humanity and steel between me and my target.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Pine Buff, Arkansas
We're at the corner of Decatur and St. Peter in New Orleans’ French Vieux Carré neighborhoods. I went there with the idea of capturing images of these beasts of burden and came away with three keepers out of a hundred or so clicks.
I continued to wander until early evening.
Rejection or Anticipation?
I do not remember the outcome of this encounter, but I’m thinking the mule was anticipating a welcome nose rub, although the mule could be drawing back. This can be a reader decision.
This Is My Best Side.
I’ll take an 8 x 10 and six billfolds.
No Pirates Available.
Having enough of the mules, I continued to wander and wound up looking at Pirates Alley. There were no pirates and besides, very few alleys sport an outdoor eating and drinking facility. One of the diners was eyeballing the photographer. The huge white structure in the background is St. Louis Cathedral.
My presence in New Orleans was an incidence of a former annual outing with scalawag friends, Dick Warriner, Fred Davis, and the late Dick DeWoody. We would travel to New Orleans for a Friday night through Sunday afternoon road trip, watch the Saints lose a game, and return home. We scattered like a covey of quails on Saturday, but assembled at night to consume vast quantities of fine south Lousiana cuisine.
The View from Woldenberg Park Is Mighty Fine.
After dinner, the standard behavior was to repair to a bench on the river walk in Woldenberg Park and watch the New Orleans night life crank up and gain steam. Here a long lens looks down the walk and sucks in this aggregation of marine and docking life — with the “Great Chicken Bridge” in the background.
This sojurn in the French Quarter has no agenda or deeper meaning, but I trust you enjoyed the trip. While you missed the wafting aromas from Vieux Carré bistros, you also missed the piquancy of mule droppings, so you came out even.
But wait, there’s more.
At Weekly Grist for the Eyes and Mind
we take a look at Andrew Jackson
imposed in front of St. Louis Cathedral
and a couple of widely spaced glimpses
at an old service station and a lonely tree
in a corn field. Click and go.