Behind Those High Garden Walls

Dearest readers,

There is a meandering, narrow road in our village whose name lends itself to flights of fancy and is pretty difficult to pin down in English.  Does it refer to the picturesque glimpses of the Loire river which runs below through the lush foliage or to the radiant countenance of a mysterious face?  Who can tell.

 On our stroll along the rue de Beauregard this morning the air was vibrant with the shrill song of a band of crickets while countless birds seemed to be auditioning for their singing jobs.

 This lane, where dreams abound, has a timeless quality.  Tucked away behind those lofty stone walls are beautiful properties which most of us can indeed only dream of possessing. 

One cannot help peering through firmly closed gates to catch a glimpse of another world.

Many buildings on our north bank of the Loire river are partly constructed from a soft chalk rock called tuffeau which has been quarried since the eleventh century. Safe from past attack and insulated from extremes of hot or cold these troglodytes or caves, carved out of the hillside, represent a network of more than a thousand kilometres.  There were dwellings for peasants and also manor houses with extensive cellars where wines were stored.  If you look at a wall up close you will see nuggets of caramel-coloured stone, faint brown streaks and, perhaps, an oyster shell; a fossil left from the sea that once covered that part of France. On entering such a house there is usually a musty smell but, more importantly, a silence and introspection which give the impression of ancient things lying dormant.

Stone steps, high turret windows, and Pierre Ronsard roses - named after our local sixteenth-century poet - complete the picture.

Yesterday evening the ambiance here was quite different.  Our children's school had organised an exhibition of their artwork both inside the dim honeycombed tuffeau rooms and outside in the dazzling early evening light.  Children flitted about.  There was much merrymaking.  Vouvray sparkling wine flowed and tasty food had been lovingly prepared.  It was such a memorable occassion we simply had to return this morning just to have another look.

This time the gates were closed and this house, like others in the rue de Beauregard, was slumbering once again. Roses blooming like a meteor shower had rearranged their blankets of colour for the day.   

If lingering a while you would see rose petals falling in slow motion and soft as rain. They litter the pavements with bright paint flakes. 

Sleeping ancient dwellings

and thorny roses.

Perhaps one might find a spindle and spinning wheel with silken thread in this turret room?

I am getting a little carried away with the Sleeping Beauty analogy but the air is thick with stories here on a hot summer's day.  On the gates of 'Rochevigne', where we had spent our beautiful evening, I felt compelled to hang...

a shawl made of silk, alpaca, and merino.

A gift made for my mother and not for Sleeping Beauty!

For those who feel they are experiencing a little déjà vu this a replica of my Cosette Wrap knitted last winter this time knitted up with opulent Juno Pearl in Flight and French Grey colourways.

I wanted to give my mother a corner of blue sky with a silver lining.

Both the pictures above were taken at the Chaumont International Garden Festival last year.  There will be more on that soon.

Details are on Ravelry of course.

Thank you so much for your warmhearted comments on my previous post.  You are all wonderful and I am very grateful for the network of inspiring, clever, and kind people out there.  My next post will cover in part my embroidery workshop with Cécile Franconie at Loop in London.  Needless to say an amazing time was had by all.  I would also like to wish a very happy Jubilee to everyone in the UK. Today is Mother's Day in France!

A très bientôt,

Stephanie

Ripe For The Picking

Dearest readers,

Do you find that sometimes putting words to pictures can be superfluous?

I could tell you that during one of those legendary l-o-n-g May public holidays here in France we turned our noses up at the unrelenting rain and went strawberry picking here.

I could also write that, contrary to the advice of Christene Ferber - France's lovingly nicknamed 'Fée des Confitures' ('Jam Fairy') - in this inspiring jam-making book, gathering strawberries on a late rainy afternoon did not noticeably taint their glorious taste, texture, or scent.

I would also be tempted to add that during our ensuing Jam Making Session Angélique 'helped' whereas eight-year old Tristan truly HELPED. (The zeal and care with which my son stirred those strawberries, sugar, and  lemon juice for almost half an hour contributed to our jam success, I am sure.)

I do believe, however, these pictures speak for themselves.

Of course with this strawberry jam came some happy inspiration.  You do know what's coming now, don't you? ;-)

Mademoiselle Fraises

showing a bit of leg...

and surprisingly not afraid of heights for a strawberry ground-hugging plant, I might add.

And her more timid and sweet-natured friend Mademoiselle Fruits Rouges...

whose ankles and ears are adorned with redcurrants, cherries, and strawberries, of course.

They have both been created for that delectable shop "La Maison d'Annie" mentioned in my previous post.  Both are ripe for the picking on this sunny day in May perched in our Elder Tree looking across at the nearby cherry tree urging its green cherries to ripen and enjoying the enthusiastic and repetitive song of our local cuckoo. Both will also be ripe for the picking if you are interested when I open my Etsy shop in the next few days. You have no idea how touched I was by your generous and enthusiastic comments on my last post.  Your presence here makes a world of difference.  I am so very, very grateful to you all.  Thank you.

 First, I am taking some time out from this rich and hectic period of theatre, dance, guitar rehearsals and music exams by taking a weekend trip to England. I am overjoyed at the thought of seeing my wonderful parents in Tunbridge Wells. I will be at Loop Knitting in London to meet - and I am very excited about this - Cécile Franconie who will be running an embroidered button workshop. I hugely admire her creative talent and am in awe of her eye for colour. Will anyone else be there? 

I will leave you with a parting glance from our two latest residents.

Actually forget the rabbits.   Gaspard is infinitely more charming!  And so, my friends, I will leave him with the last word for today.

'Take me for a walk through the vineyards.  Now.'

A bientôt,

Stephanie

ps If you have noticed any clumsy Frenchisms in my written English I would be grateful if you could let me know.  I need to cross the Channel more often to keep my English alive!

Bells Are The Best Birthday Gift

Hello wonderful readers on this post election day in France,

As our eldest daughter, Héloïse, turned sixteen on the last day of April, we celebrated the occasion with an Easter revival in between spectacular downpours of the most stubborn kind. 

Gracefully teetering between childhood and becoming an amazing young adult Héloïse seemed happy to participate in our second Easter egg hunt this season.  There is something to be said about celebrating such rituals when you feel like doing so, don't you think? 

And how about a birthday present hunt? 

First, the essential gift for my dancing daughter.

The next present will, I believe, GRAB your attention.  Are you ready?

The lilac is pretty enough but look at those silver bells.  They are exquisite, don't you think?  They are, of course, the beautiful work of the very talented Emma of Silverpebble.  A few weeks ago, when the weather was sunny for days on end, Héloïse and I were chatting about symbolism and I asked her which object she would choose to symbolise her birthday.  Perhaps eggs and daffodils, she thought, and then her answer rang clearly: bells!

Of course I knew Emma would transform this symbol into the perfect birthday necklace for a sweet sixteen year old.  It was such a pleasure to work with her.  She was quick, offered suggestions - church bells or sleigh bells? -  and kept me updated on her progress with mini videos of the bells tinkling.  Oh how those two adorable bells chime delightfully!  I need never worry about losing my daughter ever again ;-) 

Thank you so much Emma!  I cannot wait to commission another silver beauty from you!

Of course Héloïse's birthday inspired me to make something too. Something festive in theme and inspired by these colours:

This picture is taken from an amazing French book, compiled by three talented artists - Christine Ferber, Philippe Model and Bernhard Winkelmann - in which recipes have been concocted for Alice in Wonderland.  Its title is Merveilles, délicieuses recettes au pays d'Alice and you can find it here or here.  I will come back to this book in the near future.

Here is Mademoiselle Confetti, a sweet natured, party loving spring creature with a passion for cakes:

"Another rabbit?'', you kindly remark.  Yes, ANOTHER rabbit to mark a rather exciting moment.  Annie Joliveau, the owner of La Maison d'Annie, a beautiful shop, situated in an old house on the banks of the river Cisse in Vouvray, has commissioned me to create ten items for her boutique.  I am so excited!  Decisions have been made over the past couple of weeks during which I have suffered NO migraines.  I was so touched by your kindness and valuable advice following my last post and I taken heed of every single word you wrote.  My role as a mother is precious to me and needs to take precedence.  Angélique will be going to a lovely childminder one day a week.  This will not be a big transformation in her life but it will grant me a few hours to work on such commissions.  Madame De Saint Venant has also asked me to participate in a garden and crafts fair at Valmer Château in October.  You may recall I wrote an article about her sixteenth-century kitchen gardens last year?   She is a extraordinary lady and we have stayed in contact.

I am also thinking about opening an Etsy shop.  Very timidly I ask you; do you think there would be any takers for custommade rabbits?  I ought to reassure you that there won't be just rabbits.  Phew, you sigh! Your input on this matter will be very much appreciated!

So Happy Birthday, Héloïse.  May the next year bring you the dreams you deserve.

If any of you have a minute to spare and you fancy brushing up on your French skills, please take a quick look at her blog.  This little artist of mine has just drawn some thank you cards and I think they deserve a peek.  There's even a picture of Gaspard our puppy!

Thank you so much for being wonderful and kind and a warm welcome to my new followers.

A bientôt,

Stephanie

Waving Goodbye To The Daffodils

Dear readers,

The dazzling flash of yellow forsythias, which offer a splash of fleeting colour after a hard winter, fade and drop in March hedges barely fulfilling our craving for a fix of colour.  Usually daffodils bring the next cloud of bright sunshine-yellow much to the delight of all spring revellers.  This April sadly I have not seen them. While walking in and around our village I could say truthfully my eyes have been drawn upwards to marvel at the countless orchard trees in blossom.  I should also write that my eyes and thoughts have been turned inwards searching for solutions.  I have reached the conclusion that I cannot be a full-time mother and continue to work on the growing list of 'to be made to commission' and 'to be written by a deadline' items after dark when my children are asleep. My body has been sending me cleverly crafted signals which have stopped me dead in my tracks: migraines!  Oh, the migraines I have had! It's hard to find solutions when your head hurts, your children cheerfully chatter, your puppy makes that face again and your dreams are waiting in the wings to be made real.  For an impatient, easily inflamed soul like me the answers need to snap into place quick sharp; no dawdling, please.  We all know however that solutions and answers will only come in their own sweet time.  And so I bide my time and learn the art of patience.

The best remedy of course it to walk and gather inspiration from Mother Nature. Fortunately I have found the vivid yellows and greens of daffodils in other splendid forms. The lichen-covered vines are bursting forth.

Primroses are abundant in the undergrowth flanking the vineyards.

And rows upon rows of tulips sway like balloons in the breeze in this hillside garden lovingly tended by the deceased owner's daughter.

I had the joy of re-reading Anna Parkinson's wonderful book Nature's Alchemist: John Parkinson, Herbalist To Charles I, recently.  John Parkinson was, in my opinion, patience personified.  His lifelong passion for plants was intimately bound up with the struggles of faith during the turbulent early seventeenth century.  Despite his regular presence at the court of Charles I and his central London apothecary he kept a low profile, being a Catholic, quietly growing an extraordinary range of flowers for delight and pleasure in his garden in Covent Garden.  He carefully recorded them all and had them engraved for his exquisite book Paradisi in Sole Paradisus Terrestris, first published in 1629.

John Parkinson's daffodil (no. 8) and those of his friends, illustration from Paradisus, 1629, taken from Anna Parkinson's book.

The most startling feature of John Parkinson's book, to quote, Anna Parkinson, "was that it was the first English book about plants to be devoted above all to their beauty".  He believed that one could create a paradise in the tiny enclave gardens to be found in the crowded city that London had become.  John also called this book his 'feminine' work, thinking of the gentlewomen among his clients for gynaecological remedies and beautiful plants who shared his love of flowers.  Anna Parkinson writes: "He often wrote about women's speech, their desires and their needs.  John's garden released feminine aspects of himself in which he revelled, such as his mircroscopic reverence for colour and detail. [...] When he recommended bulbs to his readers, he gave advice on how to care for them because 'I do wish all Gentlemen and Gentlewomen... to bee as careful whom they trust with the planting and replanting of these fine flowers as they would be with so many Jewels'.  Bulbs were expensive, especially tulip bulbs from Amsterdam, but for John these flowers were more precious than their mercenary value.  Working with his plants with the care and devotion that gentlewomen applied to their needlework, John wanted to show that nature could offer an equally satisfying result.".

The link made by John Parkinson between flowers and women's needlework fascinates me.  We all know how gardens lend themselves to a variety of art forms.  I am particularly drawn to how gardens may be transformed into bodily apparel.  The picture above of Daffy-Down-Dilly, taken from Salley Mavor's exquisite Pocketful of Posies: A Treasury of Nursery Rhymes and the garden inspired painting below by the artist Jess of Purpletreebird are both examples of what make me tick. 

As a tribute to those much loved and unseen daffodils and to ease my solution-finding mind I have knitted two cardigans using Rowan Tweed DK in Avocado Green and Rowan Fine Flecked Tweed in Leyburn Yellow.

One small,

One big.

One was knitted up in the blink of an eye whilst eating date and wholemeal scones and drinking Chai with my children.

The other required patience!  The Knitting Gods were laughing at my knitting zeal for halfway through my first effort I came to the sorry conclusion that - and you too will laugh - my tension was wrong!  Quick as a flash with a heavy sigh I switched from 3mm to 3.5mm needles and started all over again.  I could paint a poetic image here.  True, I spent a lot of time knitting this cardigan under apple trees in blossom over Easter but many hours were also spent fumbling through a haze of aching headaches.

Nevermind.  'Tis done now!

The human-sized cardigan is Orianna Eklund's Daffodil, which is a beautifully easy pattern to follow. The little folk sized cardigan is Claire Garland's doll clothes pattern conceived for her knitted Easter hare. If you aren't familiar with her enchanting blog dotpebbles to take a peek.

I leave you with a photograph of my constant companion's, Angélique's, helping hand. 

Thank you so much for patiently waiting for my return and your kind, kind words about my rabbits in the previous post.  I have been surprised and excited to see how in real life they seem to be in demand.  More on that later.

A bientôt,

Stephanie