Golden

The sky is golden and painted with twigs, like fingers on branches of the trees. A few leaves remain, stuck... too late to fall before the final freezes of the season.
The squirrels are from leapng in the trees. Jerking and jumping and squeaking and cackling.   They know a freeze is coming and they are preparing. Jan 21 was mild, winter is returning
tonight.

Low sixties and down from a breeze....

Today I'm in the yard watching the clouds roll by.
Low sixties and down from a breeze....
I'm sitting on a picnic table near the creek.
A loud chickadee is either singing to me or scolding me I haven't decided which.

The pool is full from last week's rains.
The day is mild, typically southern.
A wet weather system is supposed to be blowing in later tonight. Another 3 to 6 inches of rain to be dribbled and poured onto the wet,  winter earth surrounding my house on the northshore of Lake Pontchartrain
Christmas came and went bringing the family near as it should be. Good food, memories and plans for the future.
Narcissus bulbs planted and a few loads of clothes fluff and folded aleady.
The sun screams as it breaks through the clouds ever so strongly but breifly.
Life is good and full.
Animals are singing announcing themselves.
The wind rustles in the cat tails and scoots up the trees all the way to the top of the leaves. The loosest leaves dangle gently vibrating like a blanket listing on the air. Listen hard and imagine you can hear their ringing like little Tibetan temple bells.

Lazy December (last work day off) kind of  Day.

How did it get so late so soon? ~ Dr. Seuss

hints of Christmas Gumbo

Sunday Mornings

Sunday mornings are best begun with long deep yawns and a cup of coffee...

with chicory.

The Day After Thanksgiving

I'm on the back porch.
It's 58 degrees.
The sun is in my eyes and I feel warm on my cheeks.
Glorious day after Thanksgiving.
The leaves fall as the breeze picks up. Squirrels and birds are speaking ~ trying get this Sun while they can.

Slowly I'm feeling some of that tension beneath my right shoulder blade loosen up. The wind chimes rocking back and forth. Kindly and slowly.

So glad the weekend is here.

A moment of silence in honor of shrimp merliton casserole.

This year a series of unfortunate events changed our Thanksgiving plans. Instead of a family holiday in the mountains, we found ourselves at home with a gutted kitchen unable to host the annual family gathering. Thankfully my brother and sister-in-law had her family and ours for Thanksgiving at their waterfront home on Lake Pontchartrain.
Thank goodness I shopped on line earlier in the week because the Honeybaked ham store was packed. Once I went through the cattleline I had the preordered ham with a bone in hand.
A ham with a bone is a southern tradition. A necessity in and of itself. It is meant to be used for cooking after the holiday. It offers a reminder of times with family. Like a kiss to take with you as you go out the door.
My family's Thanksgiving follows a fairly regular menu. All that changes are the names of the cooks who prepare cherished Southern recipes with their own tradition and care.
Honey Baked Ham and turkey with giblet gravy. Baked maccaroni and cheese and my grandma's sweet potato casserole. Momma's cornbread dressing and my sister-in-law's mom's oyster dressing.  Shrimp merliton cassrole.  ~A moment of silence in honor of shrimp merliton casserole. ~
The kids were sweet. The hugs were tight the  words were deep and meaningful.
A good time was passed by all. Laughs, photographs, memories.
I couldn't ask for more.
My Mom and I discussed it and we both agree; The fact that my 24 year old nephew asked to have the ham bone to bring home for later cooking was significant as a sign of his newly found level of maturity.
That's when it hit me... This would not happen outside of the south.
If it did, it certainly wouldn't be an indication of a young man's entry into adulthood.
The South where recipes and traditions are handed down by many family members who have long since passed on. It is inevitable that so many of life's descriptions, adjectives and analogys surround food.

My Cup Runneth Over

From the moment of my rising until the last wakeful memory of each day I am overcome with sincere gratitude. I'm thankful for every breath, every hug,  every second of this life I am blessed to live.  I wish to savor the time spent with those I love deeply, and appreciate the impact that even the smallest exchange with another can have on my life. Thanks to all who have come in and out of my life and with sincerity of heart I am thankful to those who remain. My cup runneth over.

I am a Southern Girl by Birth...

 ...and a native New Orleanian by the grace of Gawd. I've never considered myself a country girl. A southern girl yes, but not a country girl. That is until a month ago. My husband and I found our dream house rather by accident and left the suburbs that we fled to before we started a family. Situated about 75 miles north of New Orleans, it is a totally different world. A totally different vibe. A totally different speed. We are living in the country. 

I intend to savor every moment of every day and appreciate all of the little things. Here in the country where it's less crowded and there's more space it's easier to see the things that would have fallen between the cracks. Amidst the disorganization and frenzy of half unpacked boxes that litter my home, I am finding a gradual inner peace that has been locked away for quite some time. I want to make the next chapter of my life  mean more. I want to taste every taste. Appreciate the smallest if details. Welcome to the back porch the conversations are beginning.