Oh, how I love spring in New Orleans. The weather is lovely, daylight savings time goes into effect, and it's nice enough to sit outside on the porch in the evenings.
How can I tell spring has arrived in New Orleans? Why, by the big-ass flying cockroach that scuttled across my floor this morning. I was still groggy and not quick enough to stomp him with my shoe, so I'm sure he's lying in wait for me now. He's probably in our bedroom, cruising in and out of the closet, and perhaps taking little rest breaks on my pillow as I type this.
We'll know that spring has fully sprung once the buckmoth caterpillars take over the trees, streets, and sidewalks and start stinging us. As Emmeline says, "Don't touch the hairy caterpillars!" My four-year-old is a smart girl.