My days are especially brightened by the talented vision of two fellow Mississippians---Janie and Marty, and I travel back each day through the images captured by their lenses.
There's Marty Kittrell's site:
That gorgeous purple flower is exponentially more beautiful, but reminiscent of the optic-fiber flowers in a clock we had way years ago. It hung in our bedroom, and on Sunday nights we'd lie in bed late, watching the tips of the flowers glow, as we listened to Music From the Hearts of Space. I hadn't thought of that in years.
The organ pipes, taken just as that one frame, are like polished instruments each one, in a black case to keep them safe and shining until time to take them out and unleash the music.
And the brave little sprigs in the rail-tie---would you believe I water the tiny outlines of moss in the cracks in our driveway? Life is indeed a miraculous and wonderful thing.
And I just had to link today's pictures from Janie:
Churches and bells and trees with knees---she does know how to find the images of Home.
The warmth of a red barn, a golden bee in the Southern sunshine as I type here with my fingers chill and an urge to run upstairs and turn up the heat another wee notch this damp cold day.
And I love the old cross tilting with time and tree-roots---a true depiction of "to dust ye shall return."
But pay particular attention to the bare-root tree, struggling to hold onto purchase on the eroding bank. The Mississippi Roots mirror my own in an uncanny fashion---they're long and reaching, but not quite anchored as they once were, with a lot of uncovered, unfettered branches to them. I know I'm HOME here, but the tippytoes of my roots are still clinging to those last holds on that black Delta Gumbo.
Perhaps someday my anchoring grip on Delta soil will let go, and the tree will topple, but not yet. Not yet.