To have the children near me, to occupy myself with them, to try to raise them in the noblest sense of that term and to impress on those little souls things that will never be effaced; to interest myself a bit in everyone and to make our home into a living center, to give it soul – all this filled my days.
– The Secret Diary of Elisabeth Leseur
Yes, all this.
Daffy-down-dilly came up in the cold,
Through the brown mould
Although the March breeze blew keen on her face,
Although the white snow lay in many a place.
Anna Warner—Daffy-Down-Dilly.
We thought maybe it was just us, but it seems this is the coldest March that the British have seen in some 50 years and they aren't enjoying it any more than we. It would make no difference to me really, except the daffodils were just beginning to bloom. I have been looking forward to seeing the explosion of color along the road where there are mounds of daff's all budded out and just beginning to open. Very sad to see those yellow blossoms in the garden drooping under the falling snow this afternoon.
I am eating my words – and a lot of other stuff, looks like – by telling you that we did do a second celebration this month after all. St. Joseph's feast day follows right on the heels of St. Patrick's. As we read today the boys were pretty certain we "could" pull off a semi-traditional St. Joseph's celebration. Traditional in that we had the symbolic foods, 'semi' in that we picked it all up on the way to soccer. Do we plan ahead or what?
So real quick 'cause it's late here is what we did. We read Good St. Joseph together over lunch. (after Kieran swore he could find it if I promised to read it. He did. I did. : ))
We looked up online traditional St Joseph altars in Italian communities. They said the table typically had three tiers to symbolize the 3 persons in the Trinity and the 3 people in the Holy Family. We made ours with stackes of books and paper.
The little girls ran to the toy bins and brought a tool set.
Kieran and Brendan grabbed some white beans and made the FAVA sign to tell the story of the famine.
I ran into the store and got Fig Newtons (fig pastries are traditional but time consuming), spaghetti and sauce, and premade cream puffs.
We ate it all up.
Then they retold the story to Dad. Voila.
They are sleeping off their cream puffs and I am joining them the minute I hit publish.
For references and printable projects to be done when you wake up say oh yeah! It's a feast day! Like right now….. you can find a ton on Catholicicing.com
Fig pastries are one traditional dish. Catholicicing (pretty sure) suggested carving traditional symbols into the fig newtons which thrilled the little boys for some reason.
Cream puffs. Frozen. I sprinkled the sugar on top. I think that makes them semi-homeade.
Does too. : )
Oh what a treat, truly, this afternoon was. A blessing in so many ways. I met a wonderful dance mom this winter and we drove together we drove up to the home of two local antiques dealers. We were greeted in the drive by several of their peacocks. Soon after we were discovered by their owner who gave us a tour of the grounds, a former rectory. He left us to mill around and peek into barns and drawing rooms while he attended to a window installer. You see, he and his wife live here among all these incredible old things. And most, save for sentimental pieces are for sale.
They open their home and welcome folks in. When you've had a look around, if you are lucky enough to finish up around tea time, he fires up the teapot and you have a good chat around a table laden with silver candlesticks and cake stands. That was just our good fortune.
Even after some years of living in Europe I have never failed to thrill at running my hands along intricately carved wood and carpets woven by hand. Sitting in a chair that is older than my own country just astounds me still. Europeans have a different understanding of antiquity and I am not sure my awe will ever wear off. It is so like touching time.
In a basket on the table were the tiniest of silver bits and bobs. The owner's wife sorted through and explained them to us. The wee owls, the size of a thumb, were snuff holders. There were impossibly small silver stamp cases and needle holders. Needles were "quite dear" she says. Elaborately carved sewing scissors sat with little fairy chairs. All created and carried by hands long gone from this world.
A favorite of mine was this cabinet which read, "Welcome ever smiles, farewell goes out sighing."
And clocks. The clocks. Majestic grandfather clocks are a special collection for them. We were there when they chimed and learned that the gentleman can identify his clocks by their chime. British clocks are made with "bell metal" the same as church bells so they have an angelic tone as they ring out the hour.
He announced it was tea time for the birds as well so we wandered out to watch them gather for feeding time. A funny thing happened as we were talking about the peacocks. Shots were firing off in the distance regularly as he described the birds flying free range during the day and returning at night. When I asked if his neighbors ever shot them he laughed and pointed over our shoulders to the field. That is a pigeon cannon he said. It is on a timer and fires off periodically to keep them moving on. This was funny because for the past 9 mo. we have only walked so far down one of the farm roads because we thought hunters were in the fields. Guess not : )
We left with a lot of information and many pictures. I totally understand how they have cultivated such a loyal following locally. This was not a shopping trip, it was a cultural experience. They feel the same way as they have learned about foods and customs from their customers from around the world. We noticed the same at a local restaurant last month. There is a great interest in sharing customs and history everywhere we go and we are just soaking every bit of that up.
So grateful.
Spreading around some Cath Kidson love. : ) And how this copycat rolls…
I'd like one of everything, please. <g>
However, since I haven't won the lottery, here is what I do. I take a visual survey and then begin to analyze the individual parts to determine what is speaking to me – textures, colors, techniques etc. Often you can break down a look into easily repeatable steps that way.
I loved the fold over elastic (FOE) skirt idea. Love. I am a lazy seamstress so that knocked off the whole casing step. Win. Tutes here and here. Side note – turquoise/sea glass and dull red together never fails to stir my heart.
I love the look of a vintage iron bed. In lieu of an original, IKEA has this for $149 which looks very authentic up close and needs no work. Target's Simply Shabby Chic line has similar bedding. Cheaper yet? Search etsy and ebay for vintage floral sheets. Sew two together and stuff with an old comforter. Duvet : ) Search for vintage towel to fold in half and add a top casing for the awesome laundry bag.
Frame old fabric remnants in Goodwill frames. Scrapbooking paper works well too.
And this is why window shopping (and pinterest) does not depress me.
"…only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself."
~Ruth Stout
I have been talking to Susan (from High Desert Home and My Summer Notebook) about an awesome list of healthy happy habits she shared just before she closed down shop online. One of her counsels was:
Keep Fresh Flowers in the House
Some good reasons can be found here. I picked up a pot of bulbs last week and they are blooming already in the heat of the kitchen. It is wonderful to look over yellow blooms out onto the white snow.
"Winter, a lingering season, is a time to gather golden moments, embark upon a sentimental journey, and enjoy every idle hour." – John Boswell
After a full and bustling December we are settling into a somewhat quieter January. Breath in, breathe out. It is a little window before things pick up again and I have learned to gather moments where they can be found. This week we have brought home into clear focus again, taking into account the things scheduled in coming weeks and months and balancing those with a steady rhythm in this house and a generous dose of idle hours. We need those too.
Tonight we were 'getting on track' again. That is what I said this morning when Daddy flew to the States. Since there would be no more movies with Dad this week and no more evening football games or events we were going to go to bed earlier and get up earlier.
And stuff like that.
We cleaned the house today. And played outside. And picked out some crafts to make this week. And ate soup with our leeks. And watched the first Christmas movie. And got out the advent wreath to light tomorrow. And said the St. Andrew novena. And a rosary. And read a story – or four.
And then. And then….. Instead of all that 'getting back on track" Moira and the little girls begged to reeeeaally quickly set up just that first small tree. Yes, the first. I have a few of them. As Dorcas Lane would say, "Christmas trees are my one weakness." (Do go watch the clip. It is a riot. I will wait here. ; ))
They chose the long coveted little white tree we snatched up for a pittance at the thrift shop this fall which will stand in Moira's room. She was so very excited and brought the little girls up to help her assemble it. At the bottom of the box was a long strand of twinkly white lights which miraculously all still worked. Out they came too.
This is as far as we got when Daddy called to say he landed. It truly was past time for bed. We will get back on track another night. There is hot chocolate to be stirred and lights to string and memories to be made.
It's going to be a great season.
Oh Christmas lights, light up the street
Light up the fireworks in me
May all your troubles soon be gone
Oh Christmas lights keep shining on.
– Coldplay
Beauty is everywhere a welcome guest.
– Goethe
Starry Sky Journal 