Friday, April 4, 2014

God's Glory

This time of year we are especially blessed to be in the midst of God's glory.  It is all around us, filling our senses and renewing our spirits. I tried to captured a little of it with my camera a couple of days ago, but, of course, you can't really capture the true essence of His glory in pictures.  I wish you could have been with me to see it "in person."

I was at the Old Court House Museum in Vicksburg, which is at its most beautiful this time of year when the dogwoods are blooming.  The Old Court House is one of my favorite places in Vicksburg, and I loved just walking around the grounds, taking it all in.

 The sky was an incredibly beautiful blue, a perfect background for my pictures.
 
 The dogwoods were resplendent (the only word that comes to mind to describe them) ... 
their profuse white blossoms almost blinding in the noontime sun.
 
 
This is the Hobbs Freeman Memorial Garden, a lovely tribute to a beloved and renown Vicksburg sculptor and artist.

As beautiful as the dogwoods were, my favorite picture of the day was found under the branches of this old Camellia bush ...

The camellia petals were shedding and lay amongst a bed of violets ...
Violets and Camellia Petals ... they remind me of "God's Potpourri."

I wish you many happy days filled with an abundance of God's glory.
Happy Spring!

3 comments:

Marie said...

I just found your blog...your photos are beautiful! Thanks for sharing!

Beth said...

Beautiful pictures! Thank you for sharing a glimpse of spring

racheld said...

Hallelujah, Thine the Glory!

Such beautiful reminders of the eternal Circle.

We never had camellias---several years of Azaleas and Formosas, before Mother settled on a lifetime of putting out and taking in her caladium bulbs. But I remember distinctly that when Sis got married at Christmas time, a friend from another town brought bushels of camellias for us to decorate with at the rehearsal dinner.

So I've always thought of them as a Winter flower, though I do think that old romantic Southern novels would have it that the Spring cotillion was awash in the lavish blooms adorning the young ladies' hair and necklines and on each wrist.

Thinking of waltzes and tulle and young dreams,

rachel