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| Her infinite beauty never ceases to amaze me: St. Charles Avenue, The Garden District, Canal Street, Christmas in the Oaks, Audubon Park, Vieux Carre, and every hidden courtyard that holds her secrets dear. Though she has fallen, though her face is still streaked with tears, she is strong and glorious, and my NOLA will sing once again. by Amanda Wilson |
| With many thanks to Amanda Wilson for sharing this beautiful tribute with us. |
| Ode to NOLA Her streets sing their sweet melody: the trumpet tune and the gruff voice of Louis Armstrong. She sets the dinner table, the aromas of jambalaya, crawfish etouffee, and gumbo force me to close my eyes and take another deep breath. She powders my nose white with soft, warm beignets, eases my pain with a cafe au lait. She knows a good time: Mardi Gras Mambo, rollin' with the Krewe of Orpheus. Purple, green and gold hang from her balconies, ancient tree branches, and anyone who knows how to laissez les bons temps rouler. |