Morning Open Thread is a daily, copyrighted post from a host of editors and guest writers. We support our community, invite and share ideas, and encourage thoughtful, respectful dialogue in an open forum.
I’ve come to think of this post as one where you come for the music and stay for the conversation—so feel free to drop a note. The diarist gets to sleep in if she so desires and can show up long after the post is published. So you know, it's a feature, not a bug.
Join us, please.
Good morning everyone. It’s 77°F with winds from the southeast of about 8mph on the gulf coast of Louisiana. The humidity is about 84%, the chance of rain a hopeful 20%, and the coffee hot and black. All in all it should be a pleasant enough day.
It’s been a hectic week and I’m looking forward to the weekend. My brother-in-law came into about a dozen citrus trees, a fig, and a bay leaf—and I promised to help him get them in the ground Saturday. Sort of late to be planting them, but free trees are free trees so we’ll make them a home in his back yard and hope for the best.
This week has been long and busy, too complicated to tackle in one sitting so I’ll parse it out over the next few Fridays and treat myself to slow, careful recollections. I’ll catch up on sleep, get the house in order, pay bills and catch up on correspondence. I’ll spend quiet hours reading and long moments enjoying the few days between winter and the brutal summer that’s only weeks away. Schools are coming to a close and the seniors are done this week in our local districts.
Traditionally my son and I and a group of kids and parents head to Grand Isle for four or five days to mark the transition. This year we’ve set the date for the third week of this month. A bit of fishing, lots of cooking, long conversations about nothing much, and a pace of life slow enough to give everyone a sense that something important has ended and a new time about to begin. These times of transition—kids moving from middle school to junior high, others looking forward to college or work—help break up the purely linear stretch of our days. We get to stop, look around, and plan; and, in the heart of a mild May, recreate ourselves.
Enjoy your Friday and have a wonderful weekend.
Friday’s Lagniappe
If you’ve ever seen the sculpture of William Faulkner in Oxford, you’ll probably agree with the title of this week’s piece. It’s an essay from The Bitter Southerner by Lizzie McIntosh entitled, “The Rodin of the Delta.”
“Years of clay live in every wrinkle, crease, and indentation of Bill Beckwith’s hands.”
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Grab your coffee or tea and join us, please.
What's on your mind this morning?