Saturday, December 31, 2011

Christmas Pictures

My holidays wouldn't be complete without sharing a few pictures I captured of our grandchildren, Avery Grace, six years old, and her baby brother, Maddox, who is 4-1/2 months old.

It makes my heart sing to watch Avery and Maddox interact with each other.

Every time Maddox sees Avery, he smiles ... and she loves him dearly, and is constantly kissing him and talking "baby talk" to him.

Doesn't he look mischievous in this picture!

Avery making Christmas cookies ...

I love the way she purses her mouth as she concentrates. Sometimes, you can still get a glimpse of "babyness" in her little face. I know it's fleeting, and I don't want to miss one of those little glimpses.

In the next picture, she looks even older than her six years ...

While I prefer more candid shots, Avery likes to "pose" every now and then ...

Maddox in his "pensive" mode. If only he could talk!

I hope you were able to capture some pictures during the holidays, because, as poet Edgar Guest so wisely said ... "In photographs only can yesterdays live."

Friday, December 30, 2011

Bring Me Purple Pansies


O give me not red roses,
That early dews have wet!
They speak to me of kisses
That are remembered yet.

O bring me not white roses,
That summer winds have drest!
For once I placed white roses
Upon a quiet breast.

But bring me purple pansies ...

If so you wish to please ...

For them I have affection ...

For pansies are "heart's ease."

— Louisa Cooke Don-Carlos

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Untie the Ribbons

Monday, December 26, 2011

God's Winter Glory

Narcissus is blooming here in Missisisippi!

One of my favorite flowers, Narcissus blooms always brighten my winter days when I see clusters of them scattered amongst flower beds or, even better, at old home sites along country roads. I can't help but wonder who planted them, and wish I could let them know that the flowers they so lovingly planted make me smile when I see them.

I have always loved this time of year following the holidays (after all the Christmas decorations are packed away and taken to the attic), and even though the winter landscapes are bleak, seeing the first Narcissus blooms of the season rekindles a sense of renewal and hope for the new year, much like the Dogwoods do in the Spring.

I love the way the centers of the flowers in the next picture look as if they're glowing. They remind me of the song, "This Little Light of Mine" ...

Best wishes to you for a New Year blessed with an abundance of bright and beautiful lagniappe, like these lovely little flowers that remind us of God's glory and presence in our lives, even on the bleakest days of winter.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Merry Christmas!

Hoping your holidays will be
blessed with Happy Gatherings ...

And filled with God's Love and Grace.

Monday, December 19, 2011

Christmas Lagniappe

Christmas Lagniappe

{Be sure your sound is turned up, if you would like to hear the music}

Click to play this Smilebox slideshow

Friday, December 16, 2011

Looking Back

Remembering 2011, by taking a nostalgic look at some of the pictures I captured during the year. If you would like to read the stories behind the pictures (and see more pictures), you can click on the links.

January Paperwhites — Winter's Lagniappe

February Hyacinths —A Promise of Spring

March — Tiptoeing through the Tulips

April — a visit to Mynelle Gardens in Jackson

May — A Tribute to the Big Red Barn, Rolling Fork, Mississippi
Gone with the Wind

June Tour of Vicksburg Flower Gardens

July Trip to Shreveport, Louisiana

August — the most joyful month of our year —
when we welcomed this little guy to our family!

September — The story of the Olive Tree

October Visit to a Sorghum Field

November Fall Foliage — Tallow Trees on the Natchez Trace

And that brings us to December ...

I invite you to visit me again soon for a photo tour of my Christmas decorations this year. Until then ...

Monday, December 12, 2011

December Lagniappe

From last December ...

Now that winter has finally made an appearance here in Mississippi, the cold temperatures have taken a toll on the landscape, replacing the glorious fall foliage of a few weeks ago with bare limbs and the muted colors of winter. But Nature has a way of compensating for the bleakness — in the form of vines with bright red berries growing wild in the woods and on fence rows along our roadsides. In the spring and summer, some of those vines were probably covered in a profusion of wildflowers, but now their colorful fruit is all that remains.

That reminds me of these lines from one of my favorite poems, William Wordsworth's Ode: Intimations of Immortality, which were recited by Natalie Wood in one of my all-time favorite movies, Splendour in the Grass ...

What though the radiance which was once so bright,
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be ...

Isn't that a beautiful way to describe the passage of the Seasons!

Last week, I noticed a tree in some woods not too far from our house that was almost completely covered with tangled vines and bright red berries — and I knew there were pictures there just waiting to be taken.

And sure enough, a couple of days later, under a brilliant blue sky for background, I went back and captured those pictures.

If you are a regular visitor to Southern Lagniappe, you know that if I'm not familiar with a flower or plant I photograph, I try to learn a little about it. I have seen vines like these, but never this close, and, after diligently browsing through several Google images and web sites featuring "wild vines with red berries," I discovered that they are Carolina Moonseed (Cocculus carolinus). They get their name from their seeds, which resemble a crescent moon.

Of course, I had to find out if my berries had "moonseeds," and upon dissecting one of the berries, I was delighted to see the little crescent shape in the center of the seed.

Isn't that awesome lagniappe!

I love the graceful way the tendrils curl and twine around the vines ...

And the berries! — so plump and ripe, and almost translucent!

I encourage you to take time to notice the December lagniappe where you live ... it's there — all you have to do is slow down a little and look for it.