The Firebird

 

Ahh, that last picture above is just so true to form!

Dear friends,

Despite the fact that night has fallen I hear a blackbird singing in the bedraggled cherry tree outside my window with such virtuosity its song carries hope through the air.  Today is my birthday - forty six already - and one of the most precious gifts has been the dazzling sunlight glimmering through golden leaves from sunrise to sunset.  It is an odd sensation, as autumn lapses gently into winter, to realise that the huge molten giant overhead burns as brightly and yet, because of the slight tilt of the Earth, when its rays strike at a shallow angle its touch is less fiery.

I usually settle into this season with contentment; what choice do I have?  Being a homebird I start dreaming of book-lined shelves and crackling fires, and I am happy.  And then I leave our house - several times a day - and sigh in delight at the regal apparel the trees bear for just a few days more.  Each yellow leaf, twirling downwards turns to molten gold for a few seconds before sinking to the finite ground.

The other day I took Tristan and Angélique to the bookshop.  Whilst they sat, book in hand, my sharp eye glanced around the displays and shelves and in a few seconds I had found, and grabbed, a treasure: my favourite French Illustrator, Charlotte Gastaut's, latest book, L'Oiseau de Feu, hot off the press.  A talented Illustrator gifts the reader a series of stage designs; the magic of a theatre show without leaving one's home.  This version of Igor Stravinsky's work, written for the 1910 Paris season of Sergei Diaghilev's Ballets Russes company, contains the ingredients of a fairy tale; an enchanted garden in which a tree bearing golden apples grows, a wicked sorcerer, a bevy of beautiful girls and a golden bird.  When I leaf through its pages I see bright ornaments, evergreen branches, a clash of colour with a touch of surrealism.  Charlotte Gastaut's distinctively Russian themed illustrations are as rich in colour as a cathedral's stained-glass windows and the découpage heightens the similarity with stage settings.

And today I wore for the first time my new handknitted hat; a beautiful, new pattern by Joji Locatelli fittingly named Lantern Lights.  I loved the idea of being crowned with tiny shining latterns to guide me through the chilly, dark evenings and that is why I picked a skein of Madelinetosh Merino DK in the glowing Candlewick colourway from my yarn stash.

My Raverly notes for my Firebird hat are here.

For those who would like to listen to Stravinsky's The Firebird I have had in my possession for a number of years now this version which I think is quite wonderful.

And, for all you music lovers out there I am sharing three of my birthday gifts today:

Carnets de Voyage by the violinist Nemanja Radulovic (here),
La Belle Excentrique by the Baroque singer Patricia Petibon (here),
 Rameau/Suites Livre III by the pianist Alexander Paley (here).

And now I must leave you as Mickaël and I are off out for the evening to celebrate this special day.  Thank you so much for all your kind and wonderful comments.  I cannot tell you how much I appreciate the fact you take the time and put so much thought into each one.

Happy weekend to you all!

Stephanie



Puddle Duck

 

Puddle Duck.  It's a pretty sweet name, wouldn't you agree?  After last week's creamy rice pudding knitting experience (aka Worsted yarn knitting) I was hungry for more.  I happily chanced upon Melissa Schaschwary's latest pattern on Ravelry, Puddle Duck, and I was hooked.  And then I became rather excited at the thought of knitting it in white and yellow; the colours of Beatrix Potter's Jemima Puddle Duck.  These are simple pleasures, dear friends, and I do not know whether it was that particularly cheery shade of yellow or the style of this sweater but that happy feeling accompanied me during every stitch.  Melissa's pattern though simple nevertheless taught me a few new techniques; the Twisted German Cast On method and Elizabeth Zimmerman's Sewn Bind Off, for example.  I opted also for adding pockets which Angélique finds very handy indeed for storing her neverending collection of stones and leaves.   Finally, the yarn - Madelinetosh Vintage in the Butter colourway - was a joy to use.  I would best describe it as robust and hearty which just shows how sorely lacking I am in knitting terminology!

 

On Sunday we took the long, winding route (made longer still by a charming-looking elderly man, sporting an orange silk scarf, who was driving a tiny, vintage and bright green car at a very slow speed) to one of my favourite villages, Azay Le Rideau, where we visited its Renaissance château once more.  It is a jewel in the crown of the Loire Valley historical monuments, built between 1518 and 1524, and even the fact that the gardens were closed for renovation did not dampen our spirits.  It is, I am sure you will agree, a delight to observe the children's enthusiasm on such outings.  Tristan was especially thrilled by the beauty of his surroundings and almost cried with disappointment when we finally left.  Therefore I chose to include some of his pictures here to share with you. 

 

And what a delight it was to capture so many glimpses of yellow through the diamond panes.  I am not certain whether my current craving for all shades of yellow stems from the short-lived beauty of autumn leaves, like detached pieces of sunshine, or perhaps I am instead in search of glowing light as days dwindle with every passing week.  Last night I read Victoria Finlay's chapter, Yellow, in her rich and wonderful book, Colour, and fell upon these words:

 

"No colour has a neat unambiguous symbolism, but yellow gives some of the most mixed messages of all.  It is the colour of pulsating life - of corn and gold and angelic haloes - and it is also at the same time a colour of bile, and in its sulphurous incarnation it is the colour of the Devil.  In animal life, yellow - especially mixed with black - is a warning. [...]  In Asia yellow is the colour of power - the emperors of China were the only ones allowed to sport sunshine-coloured robes.  But it is also the colour of declining power.  A sallow complexion comes with sickness; the yellow of leaves in autumn not only symbolises their death, it indicates it."

 

Colour, (Hodder and Stoughton, London: 2002) p.  225.

 





 

So, how do you feel about the ambiguous colour yellow?  Which things do you associate with it?  I always think of bees, the crocus and daffodil and lemon tart, of course, and real farmer's eggs with bright yellow yolks.   And cats too, obviously!  For those of you who haven't spotted her on my Madame Millefeuilles pages both here and here I must introduce you to Miss Primrose Kitten below.  I was very nervous indeed about making her for a wonderful lady who breeds pedigree cats in England but I am glad to write that she has found favour with her future mistress.  I have, incidentally, given curious Primrose a tail since this picture was taken when she climbed the old stone wall to admire the lichen and could not get down again!

 Happy week friends!  May your autumn days be filled with golden light.

Stephanie x

ps   For information, I purposefully juxtaposed the two photographs of the rear view of Angélique and the cherub sculpture.  I simply could not resist!

ps My Ravelry notes for Puddle Duck may be found here.



Oak Tree With Fairy Lights













For those of you who are not yarn literate 'Worsted' is the knitter's version of creamy rice pudding and apple crumble; instant gratification and comfort knitting.  In the constant toing and froing of everyday life, with a half-term journey to England with my two youngest children thrown in, I turned my back for a short while on lace-knitting and opted for a delightfully simple and quick pattern by Tin Can Knits, inspired by the mossy rocks and dripping rocks of the Pacific Northwest forests, named Old Growth.  Ever since knitting my Rosewater hat in early spring, also by Tin Can Knits, I've been following her latest patterns with interest.  I like the fact that this cardigan may be knitted for all sizes from newborn to fully grown woman and it looks perfectly lovely on little boys too.

 

And the yarn?  Oh, the yarn!  Julie Asselin made a batch of speckled yarns, which were sold by Paris's most enchanting tearoom/yarn shop, L'Oisive Thé, and flew off the shelves like hot cakes.  This colourway, 'It's My Party'  though predominantly green has many spots of gentle colour which are as beautiful as the Northern Lights.  Once soaked it becomes soft and squishy and Angélique has not taken it off since.  She particularly likes the fat 1970s pale green buttons.  My Ravelry notes for this cardigan (which I have named Oak Tree With Fairy Lights) are here.

 

Since our return from England a few days ago there have been brilliant blue skies setting off the yellow vines which,  now stripped of grapes, bask in the sunlight.  This is the colour which surrounds us from all sides.  There is red too. Bushes turning from sienna to scarlet and a few brave red roses enjoying the afternoon warmth like the few remaining butterflies swooping overhead and disappearing against a backdrop of golden leaves.  I think it's important to fill my children's lives with colour when the evenings draw in and Angélique, instinctively, clamours to pick flowers and so we bring confetti-colored zinnias and Brown-Eyed Susans into our home and make small wild flowers posies to grace our often cluttered table.



 I am hoping to write more frequently here over the next weeks.  Before I leave you I would like to share:

 

This scrumptious recipe which tastes of Autumn.  The children absolutely love it!

 

The most sublime Parisian perfume shop which recreates 1920s scents.  If you read the descriptions you will understand how much poetry there is in each glass bottle.  Imagine a perfum which conveys the atmosphere of a seventeenth-century abbey or Louis XV's Versailles gardens?  Beware!  They have an online shop.

 

Finally, this new (to me) garden writer  "Only a freehold will do, because when you plant a tree you want to think of its roots stretching down and down for ever, and its branches reaching up and up for all time, till in the end the blossom mingles with the stars."  Beverley Nichols' charming prose about the love and toil he poured into his ramshackle, eighteenth-century house and gardens will see me through the autumn evenings.



I wish you all a wonderful week full of simple pleasures and a little magic.

 

Stephanie