I spent the day on my bicycle on a long task ride–a visit to the Registrar’s office, lunch with B., the bike shop for a new tube, the grocery for potatoes and other sundries, Human Resources to talk retirement plans. Yep, an exciting day for Rhoda and I! It was hot hot hot today, so I pedaled slowly around Uptown. That slow pedaling gave me plenty of time to check out some of the biggest, fanciest houses in town. Sometimes I think the houses are pretty. Today, though, I felt increasingly angry.  I mean, how come some people live in mansions, carefully tended by folks who could never afford a single night in a place like these, while others live in barely-safe homes in barely-safe neighborhoods? One of the streets I passed had a sign proclaiming it “Private: Do Not Enter.” How does a neighborhood declare a street private? Do they pave it themselves? Police it themselves? Many affluent neighborhoods hire their own security forces, but I don’t think that means they are outside the purview of the NOPD. The line between private and public property in this place isn’t always so clear. I walked my bike between two fancy houses on my way to Audubon Park. Parks are clearly public property, right? And yet just by virtue of having the cash to plunk down on a pricey bit of real estate, folks who live in houses lining the park get a  incredibly beautiful, well-maintained publicly-funded backyard. Their private streets run right in to this public resource, sponsored by the very people they won’t let walk in their neighborhood. I don’t know, but today’s ride left me a bit surly, upset by the double standards and unfair distribution of resources so characteristic of this city, and most others.

Today was a good day on my bike. Yesterday felt a bit sluggish, and I felt a bit lazy. But today’s ride was one of those rides that make me feel like a little kid, racing along on my bicycle, skirt flying. I went for my ride after getting some quality writing done–I think that had a lot to do with it, as much as attitude has to do with anything you do. I zipped up Camp Street, stopping to take care of little errands, and then went through Audubon Park, where the birds looked lethargic in the heat–who can blame them–and the grass looked in need of water. Not a lot of folks were out; a heat advisory will do that to you. After stops at my office and the library and a visit with A. during her office hours, I raced down to meet E. and S. for lunch. I rode as fast as I could, just to feel the wind. And it felt good. On my way home for a dip in the pool I stopped to take a picture of this pothole repair taking place at Magazine between First and Philip. I remember when this part of Magazine went from easy sailing to a pile of rubble, daring the late-night tipsy rider to take a spill. I figured it would just stay that way, like that pile of rubble on St. Charles after Jefferson. But no, here it is, rubble gone, steel grate ready for something more than the Pothole Killer. Fixing the road all the way over at the edge here. Will wonders never cease. Yep, another fine day riding around the city.

My little sister is in town, and that has meant more driving than I’m used to, but also the chance to take my family on some of my favorite routes.  I missed yesterday’s bicycle pub crawl (you know I wish I’d been there, Randy), but today I got to ride up Chestnut, around Audubon Park, and up on the Fly to see the Mississippi River.  I forgot how it feels to ride around here for the first time.  The sis kept up great, and she looked damn cute on Rhoda.  Jack had fun too–it’s nice to take the two bikes out together.  I snapped this picture of folks playing beer pong.  New Orleans doesn’t have an open container law, so of course beer pong is totally acceptable here at the Fly.  I’ve already spent much of this weekend with friends and family, enjoying music at Bayou Boogaloo, having a cookout in Mid-City, and just goofing around.  I loved taking a break from my own goofing to watch other folks do the same things with their people.  Today may have set a new record for “How you doin’”s.  Sometimes, riding around this place, it just feels like you could plop down with any set of people enjoying each other and fit right in.  Especially if you’re good at beer pong.  Yeah, it’s a good holiday weekend.

I read myself to sleep last night with a bike repair book, so woke up with an urgent need to clean and maintain my bikes.  Rhoda’s chain has been skipping a lot lately, and even the pedaling has felt off.  So I treated her to a new chain, and she feels so, so much better.  After riding to and from work I decided to meet K. to take Jack out for a spin on the levee.  Gusty winds meant I got to play with gears and it felt good.  We took a break under the Huey P. before heading back, enjoying that tailwind.  I was going to head straight home but decided instead to take a spin around Audubon Park.  Man, it is seriously nice to spin along smooth asphalt.  I took a seat on a park bench in the shade to watch the birds on the Island.  They were so talkative today–I wish cameras could capture the sounds.  If you look in the upper left part of this picture you can just make out one of the herons flying towards the trees.  I sat and watched that bird for a good thirty minutes as it flew to collect sticks and branches to deposit with a much smaller and fluffier version of itself in a growing nest.  The smaller, fluffier bird then seemed to putter around, moving other branches back and forth, building out the nest.  It was incredibly relaxing sitting in the park with the herons, the noisy geese, the duck pairs, the turtles coming up for air…yeah, it was a day to sit in the park with my bike and my camera.

So there I was on my bike, zipping along on my commute, rediscovering old favorites on my ipod.  And then I had to swerve to miss running over a dead bunny rabbit on St. Charles in front of Loyola U.  Now, this is a city.  What the heck is a bunny doing trying to cross the street here?  He must have lived in Audubon Park with the geese and alligators.  But what made him make a run for it?  On my way to work it seemed he’d been very recently hit.  He looked like he could have been asleep, except for the bloody neck.  But by the time I was headed home, his body was definitely the worse for wear, with his legs bent back and run over and his eyes pecked out by some hungry bird.  He kind of looked deflated.  It wasn’t pretty.  It made me feel really, really sad.  I was thinking, though, how often I pass squirrels dead on the street and don’t really give it a second thought.  I mean, squirrels are just bushy-tailed rats, right?  Bunnies are cute as all get out, what with their floppity ears and soft fur and chompity-chomp teeth.  But mostly what it is, I think, is that we become accustomed to certain kinds of death–squirrels are the least of it–while other deaths always strike us as just a little more tragic.  It’s just a matter of what we’re used to seeing, what becomes normal.  But this dead bunny became normal pretty quickly, as cars just ran right over him.  Sometimes the speed with which we as a culture learn to accept certain kinds of violence freaks me out.  But then I just get back on my bike and let it fade into the background, like most of us.

I was back on my bicycle today, off to work, yoga, home, then back to work again.  On my way home from yoga I detoured through Audubon Park again, hoping to stretch out my ride a bit and see some oak trees; they always remind me of both permanence–they are enormous and old and intimidating–and the inevitability of loss–so many are blown over in storms or cut down to make way for something else.  This is a city always vacillating between these two, even when it seems we might go under for good.  The trees were absolutely worth the visit today.  I pulled my bike over and looked up at the sun through the leaves, clouds providing a different background, and frothy Spanish moss dripping from branches.  This is an entirely different view than I’m used to, sitting up and looking straight ahead on my bike.  But from underneath the trees are part of a different viewscape and demand a different kind of attention.  From far away, the moss looks like thick hair falling awkwardly away from the branches.  But up close and from underneath it’s like lace, and it is so pretty.  I like both views, and I like the moss’s open dependency on the tree for its life.  It might be downright unAmerican, but I appreciate it.  We are all dependent in myriad ways, and I for one think it’s best to be honest about that.

Today’s bike ride took me to yoga and then back home, this time through Audubon Park.  Today there were cyclists, runners, walkers, dog walkers, and in-line skaters.  Tons of folks are out and about in the park at 6:30 on a Sunday evening, especially when it tastes like fall.  My favorite part of the park is the oak tree.  These trees are enormous, stretching gnarled arms across the sky, dripping with Spanish moss.  They are truly beautiful.  Unfortunately many were lost during Katrina, and more were lost during Ike.  But today I felt most sad about those lost to the extension of the golf course from nine to eighteen holes.  I thought about this especially when I passed this arch marking the entrance to Meditation Walk.  Putting aside questions about who walks and meditates at the same time (though walking can certainly be relaxing and thoughtful), I wonder what used to lie beyond the arch.  Was there a path one used to be able to follow, through oak trees and moss?  Now there’s this golf course and people walk by, rather than through, Meditation Walk.  If I were a golfer I might like this change, but me?  I could have really used some meditation walking tonight.

After a busy day, I rode my bike home along St. Charles at park-rush hour–around 6:30–and was struck, as I often am, by the myriad ways different people use public space.  Audubon Park was positively hopping with joggers, runners, cyclists, walkers, frisbee-ers, and others.  This is nothing new; parks are made for these multiple uses, and that’s what I love about them.  But today there were horses.  There’s a stable in the park, but I don’t usually see the horses, even if I smell them.  They were certainly popular; I pulled my bike right over to snap pictures and every kid in the place was drawn to them.  Adults weren’t far behind.  New Orleans is a little bit like New York in that it’s pretty hard to get noticed, there are so many different types of folks doing so many different things.  But a horse in the park?  We’re all taking notice, rendering the anonymous public space communal in a real sense, if only for a minute.  Nice.

I rode to work today through Audubon Park.  I don’t know why I resist the two block jog out of my way, but I’m glad I made it this morning.  This park is so pretty, with its green grasses, giant oaks (though many have been felled by weather), algae-coated lake, and birds.  Lots and lots of birds.  N. has been stalking a nest of duck eggs for awhile, nervously hoping they survived Gustav.  I’m not sure if they did, but I kept my eyes open for baby ducks, just in case.  I saw this mass of ducks gathered underneath a bench along the Quarter side of the lake.  It really was just a pile of them, huddled together, snoozing.  I hopped off my bike to snap a photo and the mass rose and waddled a few inches further away.  I can’t say as I blame them.  I’m big and noisy, and so is my bike.  And that flash?  That’s not good for anybody’s morning eyes.  I think one of the ducks was a youth–she seemed a little fuzzy–but no babies.  Duck eggs are small potatoes in the aftermath of a storm, but they are one teensy example of loss unaccounted for.  I hope N. checks on her nest soon; I’ve become quite invested in its survival.

Today was another bittersweet bike ride as I rode to my good friend S.’s house to help him move.  I don’t want him leaving New Orleans, and will miss him terribly.  There’s a lot of leaving done in life.  I’m not a huge fan.  On my ride home from his place to mine I passed the Samuel Square Playspot on Napolean, just off Freret.  I ride by this park–excuse me, Playspot–all the time, but I rarely notice it.  Partly this is because there isn’t a lot of play happening here.  You could probably guess this just from the sign.  It is rusted and coming apart at its metal seams.  It is old–Marc Morial certainly hasn’t replaced Nagin in the past few days.  The park itself is overgrown, with spray painted numbers on its oak tree and an old swing set, slide, and a torn apart trash can. I’m not at all sure what kind of play is expected at this incredibly unwelcoming spot.  I always feel a bit sad and dejected at the sight of these broken down parks.  There’s another overgrown one with netless soccer goals just a few blocks down at Magazine.  These spaces don’t have to look like this, don’t have to be like this.  They could be made into real parks, with nets in the goals, swings on the swing sets, park benches and tables, offering folks things to do, a place to picnic or just chill in the folding canvas chairs so ubiquitous in this place where chilling often seems like a sport.  Like so much here, these parks just fall short, and its the neighborhood people who lose out.  And people want their parks.  The Fly is packed on the weekends and busy during the week, too.  Audubon Park is full of bikers, joggers, walkers, stroller-pushers, dog walkers, duck feeders, bench sitters, smokers, and anybody else you can think of.  Parks are one of our last remaining truly public and shared entities, and I’m sad to see them left so uselessly shabby.  It’s a terrible daily reminder of limit and loss.