When my man and I first relocated to the Garden District last summer (at a time when I was still working as a bartender), we settled into a spotless apartment. This apartment boasted a gallery balcony that overlooked Chestnut street. Interestingly, in our otherwise immaculate room, there was a box of clutter left behind by the previous tenant. She had left spoons, a rubber ducky, an unattractive vase, and five Anne Rice novels.
I dedicated most of the summer mornings to sitting on the balcony and reading the Mayfair witches series, commencing with The Witching Hour. Beneath the shade of the magnolia tree adjacent to our balcony, I could actually catch a glimpse of "the Mayfair House" from my window. This was the very house that Anne Rice used to own when she penned the series on Chestnut and First. It was truly a perfect way to spend the summer. So clichéd, yet so wonderful.
Alas, there is no balcony at my new abode in Central City. However, from my gallery windows, I can observe the bar where the Wild Magnolia Mardi Gras Indians rehearse and depart from on Mardi Gras morning and on St. Joseph's Day. It's still a great place, but now I just need a book that matches this new setting.