Carnival is over. Police made the midnight sweep of Bourbon Street and sent the Mardi Gras revelers home to receive their Ash Wednesday ashes. We have entered the season of introspection and self-denial leading up to Easter. But I just can’t seem to get there.
No, I still hear the music of Frenchman Street. I still see the art for sale in Royal street galleries and hanging on the fence of Jackson Square. I can taste the rich gumbo and the sweet pralines. I can still feel the effects of my sazerac and my Ramos gin fizz. I feel like dancing and adorning myself with shiny beads. I’m not ready for lent. I can’t let go of carnival. So instead of Lent, the WANDERLIT reader will offer posts about New Orleans and Mardi Gras all the way to Easter.
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, live while you can and learn what you must.
Read ~ Write ~ Wander