Everybody's bundling up

Mojo nestled in the scarf drawer.

Holiday weather has finally arrived. We've felt 40 degrees on more than one occasion and I've brought the hibiscus into the shed a couple of nights to save the blooms.

The problem is not that the air is so cold, but that we are so ill-prepared. Some houses don't even have heat. I've got a floor heater, but the doors and windows aren't properly sealed so the warmer air seeps out every crack and crevice.

And almost everyone has 15-foot ceilings! These are lovely and functional in the warmer months when the heat rises, but not at all helpful when the heat is hanging out near the ceiling in December and January.

We also don't have the right clothes - I mean, serious socks, shoes, wool pants and overcoats.

My neighbor has dressed her little dachshund in a red sweater. I think the dog, named Babette, likes it more for style than warmth. She runs around the yard constantly, so she can't be cold, but she appears to be showing off.

The issue in New Orleans is humidity, which is bone-chilling. And if it's windy, watch out! The best thing about a winter here is the season does not last long. By Mardi Gras, it will be warm again. Or maybe even next week.

It's only a bit cooler in New Orleans

If the climate change deniers still have their doubts, flowering trees are blooming. The trees "think" it is spring. Actually, the roses are quite nice. They're hardy, so can tolerate a cool night if they're getting sun during the day. I really don't mind it as I can still take a pleasant run around the park or walk down to St. Charles along State Street as I did last night, enjoying the Christmas lights, and I'm quite comfortable wearing a hoodie.

A friend from Rhode Island who's planning to visit in January asked about the weather. I told her last month, if it is any clue, I've got the AC running.

All this is good news for homeless people and Occupiers, I suppose, and maybe folks who live in Traverse City, but I'm not sure Eskimos and polar bears would agree. You're not supposed to have hibiscus in bloom at the same time as poinsettias, but there you have it.

That doesn't stop anybody from wearing knee-high boots and long scarves. We're still fashionable!

1868: Ice made New Orleans' unbearable climate bearable

Ice made the city's unbearable climate bearable. 

When the first schooner loaded with ice arrived in 1826, the cargo was supposedly dumped into the Mississippi River on the order of the mayor, who declared that iced drinks would "chill the innards and make consumptives of the people."

His citizens thought otherwise. But supplies were subject to winds and tides, and much of it melted away on the two-month passage from Boston.

After years of experiments, the first ice house opened in New Orleans in 1868.

In 1921, Bradford's on Carondelet Street had the largest selection of iceboxes in the city.

J.F. Kranz founded Crescent City Ice Company in 1928, which soon became the city's largest.

In 1937, "modern" air conditioning consisted of an electric fan blowing air over a block of ice. And until after World War II, the ice man making his rounds was a common part of the streetscape.

© 2011 NOLA.com. All rights reserved.

Cool off down south

It is a record 108 degrees in Newark and 104 in New York City, but the temperature in New Orleans this morning is a balmy 84. I don't know how to account for this, but I'm not pressing my luck. I'm just truly grateful.

When I read Mayor Daley had been altering building construction in Chicago to allow for climate change that would raise that city's annual temperatures up to those of the Gulf states, I could only wonder what that might mean for New Orleans. So far, however, our summer weather is pretty much the way it's always been - (90/90) hot and humid. I remember having a conversation several years ago with a former New Orleans resident who described it as "ax murderer" weather. The heat does try your patience. But that's why we take it slower during the summer months.

Photo credit: Times-Picayune

For a few weeks this season, it stopped raining. Now, that was scary. Blistering sunshine and no rain. A friend called New Orleans a "humid desert."

Thirty years ago, it rained like clockwork for about 15 minutes every afternoon. If you were outside when the skies opened up, you'd be drenched because it would be a real downpour. Not a problem if you dressed right.  All my clothes were cotton and I wore only Dr. Scholl's wooden sandals. Leather shoes would soon rot. Hair in a ponytail or stuffed in a hat. Long lines at the snowball shops.

Thank God, we've had a couple of really good rains. The West Bank got six inches in a few hours and had to practically shut down. I was able to stay home and enjoy listening to the sound. The next day, the the Audubon pool was delightfully cool to swim laps and everyone seemed more relaxed.

In the past couple of weeks, I've even left the doors ajar at night. Shotgun houses have cross-ventilation to allow the breeze to pass through. Mojo has been transfixed, gazing out the screen door and listening to the cicadas. She escaped one evening and had a marvelous romp with her feral friend, Linx. Rolling in the thick grass. nibbling on flowers and knocking over a flower pot. Mojo would duck under the iron fence every time I tried to grab her, so I just let her have fun. She's got on flea medication - a must. At 3 a.m., I opened the front door to find her ready to come home. She slept the entire next day, exhausted.

My neighbor, Anthony, taking a breather

When the temperature drops below 85, everyone sits on their front porch to take it all in. We have porches and screen doors, just like in the 1950s, and we use them. It's sociable because you see everyone passing by - walking their dogs, riding their bicycles or just strolling around the neighborhood, taking a look around.

It's not like New York or Chicago where, if you sit on a restaurant patio, you always have to smell the nasty city air. Here, we've got lots of flowering trees and shrubs so there's always a pleasant scent to inhale.

Last week, when the air was just warm, I took a nice walk to the mailbox about a half-mile away. I passed a beautiful old home with a small front yard. Three little kids were giggling, playing in the sprinkler. Boy, does that bring back memories. Mom sat on the front porch, keeping an eye on them.

Their games did not require high technology.