Snazzy-Jazzy Sunday

I can't believe so much time has passed, and I've not posted these photos.  Egads!  Doug and I had determined we'd have a "showdown" of photo-graphical eye . . . his Nikon against my Cannon.  :hehehe:  Israel and I were staying in historic New Orleans during the filming of his next movie, and it was the perfect place to host a Battle of the Cams!

We hit the French Quarter early on a Sunday morning ~ sure to miss all the revelry of the previous night ~ and began our trek through the cobblestone roads.  It was already beginning to turn humid, and I'm sure my hair was beginning to curl around my face.

"Click, click, click."

"Snap, snap, snap."

Walking, taking photos, chatting occasionally.

From the architecture, to the unusual, to the mundane . . . nothing escaped our lens.  Once in awhile, we would both light upon an eye piece, but take shots from our differing vantage places, comparing technique and ideas as we wandered.

There was very little movement, the exception of course being Cafe du Monde, and we liked it that way.  It was a fresh look at a city that never sleeps ~ for indeed, it was practically sleeping on that lazy, hot, Sunday morn.

Then, we turned the corner.

Much to our amazement, a jazz band was setting up, full regalia, ready to woo the city dwellers with their lyrical muse.

Then the toes began a-tappin', and she opened her mouth.  The empty streets an ampitheatre echoing the sound of her melodic voice over the rooftops and into the golden rays of the morning.

I'm sure hot beads of perspiration were dripping down the collar of her slim-fitting blue dress, yet she never let on.  The music began to sway the city, and soon, faces began peering out from door jambs and windows.  Travelers, tourists and tramps soon making their way to the sound of the Pied Pipers' call.

And the tuba played on.

And so did we . . . no longer walking but rambling under the hypnotic melody of sound . . .

Day Three of Twelve.