The Lottie B&B

Paul and Martha live in a house they designed and built themselves, about nine years ago, far away from most other people -- but in the midst of a wonderful community of neighbors who take care of each other.  About two weeks ago they got an unexpected phone call from Paul's mother, telling them that Paul's father had died suddenly.  They got in the car and started driving immediately: fourteen hours to Kansas.  They left behind their house full of cats and dogs, two donkeys, a hoop house full of crops.  While they were gone, everything was taken care of, with absolutely no notice.

Paul and Martha used to be full time vegetable farmers, going to markets and running a CSA.  They left the DC area about 17 years ago and moved to Alabama, closer to Martha's family.  Paul became a school teacher (math and science) and Martha taught community college (sociology and anthropology).  But they still wanted to keep growing vegetables.  When they moved, they brought a big load of tractors and equipment with them.  This is their second location, and they call their farm Viperville (rattlesnakes, armadillos, coyotes are part of the landscape).

Martha retired recently and now is super busy, keeping up with all the populations that need her attention, in addition to her domestic projects.  Paul still teaches full time and he drives a school bus (each route takes an hour and a half, oh my gosh) and in a year or so he will be eligible to retire with a pension. 

Anyway, we have endless conversations.  Jon and Paul can talk about anything and everything and Martha and I add in the "soft science" topics.  

While we were talking, we had a deluxe breakfast and then we hung out in the hoop house and weeded (their soil is so fluffy and sandy and not a stone or lump in sight), and we headed to Mobile for an early dinner on the causeway before going downtown to see a Mardi Gras parade. Paul and Martha were bundled in many layers because it was cold out, somewhere maybe in the 30s.  The crowds were thin because of the weather, which was actually perfect for us. 

Not being from around here, I was a little mystified by a culture that can support eight weeks of parades, weekend after weekend, and all the fancy balls that accompany that. Even after I read through a quick history of the tradition, it is hard to imagine getting so swept up in something so imaginary.  Each parade is sponsored/produced/created by a different "crewe." Historically there is assumed segregation, although last night the floats were mixed race and mixed gender, which Martha said felt different from her past.

The crew was the "Pharaohs" so all the floats were Egyptian gods or whatever.  The people on the floats threw all kinds of colorful junk off the floats -- beads, plastic stuff, candy, Moon Pies, stuffed animals. The parade watchers collected up bags and bags of this detritus. Jon is sure that the participatory nature of the parades, with people enthusiastically waving their arms and yelling so the people on the floats will throw stuff to them, is the key to the continued popularity of the parades.  We stood on a corner that was reminiscent of a street in New Orleans.

After the parade, the streets were cleared in minutes, and washed. This city knows how to close the roads and open them back up, instantly.

All day long Jon was watching the news of the snow and DC, and gnashing his teeth occasionally as he thought about all the ways that he could have been helpful.  I was just hoping no one would get hurt and nothing dramatic would happen.  This morning Carrie sent us the news that one of the hoop houses collapsed and also the cold frame.  Of course that could have happened even if we were there. The snow must be pretty heavy. Ah well.