Prelude To Winter

 The Hirschwald is an enchanted place on such an evening, when the mists lie low on the turf, and overhead the delicate, bare branches of the silver birches stand out clear against the soft sky, while the little moon looks down kindly on the damp November world.  Where the trees thicken into a wood, the fragrance of the wet earth and rotting leaves kicked up by the horses' hoofs fills my soul with delight.  I particularly love that smell, - it brings before me the entire benevolence of Nature, for ever working death and decay, so piteous in themselves, into the means of fresh life and glory, and sending up sweet odours as she works.

Elizabeth von Arnim, Elizabeth And Her German Garden (Virago Press: London, 1985), pp. 82-83 

This is a short post, dear friends, for this morning I am catching the train for Paris to spend time with my family and to visit for the first time the best tea and knitting shop in the capital; L'OisiveThé.  I have shared the above extract from Elizabeth von Arnim's first novel with you as I think it is important to remember, as autumn slips into winter and spring is too far away to comfort even by anticipation, that the decay which surrounds us is simply a necessary prelude to rebirth and greenery.  In winter enjoying nature can require more effort but it is important - for our sanity - to see things from a different perspective even if that may mean finding beauty in death.  Fortunately there are enchanted tales to spin during those long evenings and Christmas to prepare for! 

Before bowing graciously to the muted shades of winter with festive snatches of green and red I leave you with a few last glimpses of late autumn splendour caught on the final day of November beneath a giant ginko tree with dancing-skirt shaped leaves twirling gracefully to the yellow ground.

Angélique is wearing her new Tin Can Knits Prairie Fire short-sleeved pullover in the Madelinetosh colourway Molly Ringwald.

And I, below, am loving my Fairysteps Mary Jane shoes!

Warmest wishes to you all!  Let us all enjoy Advent as those December days slip away so quickly, wouldn't you agree?

Stephanie x

 



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

Sugar Mice And Other Birthday Treats

Dear readers,

To paraphrase the French writer, Erik Orsenna, in his book dedicated to sugar, bitterness, sourness and saltiness bring us back to our everyday lives whereas sweetness always evokes an air of festivity.

Sugar holds magical powers.  It can unlock the gates to an enchanted kingdom of childhood memories.  Biting into red lacquered toffee apples - can you hear the music of the fun fair? - nibbling paper-thin, buttery pancakes on Shrove Tuesday with dribbling white sugar and lemon juice, dropping a generous dollop of strawberry jam into a bowl of creamy rice pudding, deftly pinching a piece of Christmas cake marzipan behind your mother's back (was I the only one to do that?) and the unequalled treat of being presented a vast assortment of chocolates to choose from.

Caster, granulated, confectioners, Muscovado, Demerara, liquid sugars both amber and white. Regardless of its multifaceted forms, sugar always has the ability to metamorphose into different forms simply by the application of heat.  Who has not succumbed to the delights of making jams and marmelade or marvelled, whlst stirring and waiting patiently for the soft ball stage, at the deepening colour of caramel and the aroma which holds the promise of bowls of ice cream with lashings of caramel or fudge sauce?  Reach the hard crack stage instead and you will be subjecting your teeth to the pleasures of brittle toffee.  For me the humble meringue is the most miraculous of all. Combine two ingredients, sugar and egg whites, to create clouds of white billows, creamy inside with a crisp exterior.  A most heavenly delicacy.

Dani Sunshine's knitting pattern, Brook, is like inviting an old friend for tea; hours of peaceful pleasure spiced up with moments of frivolity and laughter.  Those dinky twisted cables are deliciously addictive; take a peek here and here for proof.  I called this pullover Coloured Sugars.  The Uncommon Thread colourway, Manuscript, makes me think of raw cane sugar.  And don't your just love that spring-like assortment of colours in the stripes?  I bought a skein of Koigu Painter's Palette one Easter, on a whim, and chose to knit it double here (it's a fingering weight) for the rows.  The colours remind me of a display of flavoured sugars I spotted in this fabulous tea and coffee shop in the Loire Valley town of Blois a fortnight ago.

My birthday cake - yes, yes, it's my birthday - simply had to be Maple Syrup Cake this year.  It's quick to bake, fluffy and, doused with richly flavoured syrup, becomes as sticky as a steamed sponge pudding.  The best part for me was watching the children's faces light up as each evoked their special memories of enjoying this cake, some of which had slipped my mind.  Tristan recalled eating it one snowy sunday with candles and his eyes simply sparkled.  I found this recipe once in an old Sainsbury's recipe book but I've made it so many times that I know it by heart.  It's delicious with vanilla ice cream, strawberries in late spring, or slices of apples sautéed in a little salted butter with a dusting of cinnamon.

You will need:

250 ml (8 fl oz) maple syrup

125g (4oz) self-raising flour

125g (4oz) sugar

125g (4oz) softened butter

2 eggs

2-3 tablespoons milk

1. Preheat the oven to 180°C/350°C and butter a dish.

2. Heat the syrup in a saucepan until it comes to the boil.

3. Sift the flour into a large bowl and add the sugar.  Mix.

4. Add the butter and eggs and mix until the mixture becomes creamy.

5. Add the milk and mix.

6. Pour the hot maple syrup into the prepared dish and spoon the cake batter on top.

7. Bake for around 40 minutes.

8. Remove from the oven and turn upside down onto a pretty plate while still warm.

Those tiny pink mice and rabbits, gazing up at silvery snowballs and flakes on a sparkly linen, were designed for a sweet girl who will be celebrating her fifth birthday tomorrow (five is SO much better than forty-five); a gift by way of showing my appreciation for her most generous grand-mother.  As I reached out for my favourite The Gentle Art hand-dyed cotton embroidery threads in the Spun Sugar and Pink Champage colours, unsure of what to make,  my mind conjured up SUGAR MICE!  Another childhood memory.  Do let me know, incidentally if you would like the reference for the sparkly linen.*  It is stunning even though you can barely catch a glimpse of the glimmering threads on the pictures I've taken.  The hare, Miss Twinkle Toes, is also made from the same linen.  You cannot have too much of a good thing, right?

 

There have been A LOT of hares and a handful of mice being created behind the scenes (all to be seen over at Madame Millefeuilles) in time for Christmas.  They've been clamouring to be displayed here this evening but only two were invited, Miss Twinkle Toes and Mademoiselle Violetta (with twenty five hand-embroidered sugared violets trimming her skirt).  I told them it would not do to bombard my readers with a gaggle of giggly linen creatures.  These little ladies will be requiring some boy companions soon, I think.  After Christmas, I hope.

I've been counting my days in hare parts and garments these past months which, some would say, is a sign of obssession.  That is the way I am.  One evening this week, dear Héloïse invited me to the theatre as a birthday treat.  We saw Molière's Les Fâcheux, written in haste for the unfortunate Nicolas Foquet, Louis XIV's minister of finances, for the grand festivities at Vaux-le-Vicomte in 1661.  Whilst I sat through this remarkable represenation, given by La Fabrique à Théatre, I marvelled at the Baroque dance, music and burlesque, and realised that in some sense I had lost my way a little over the past few years.  I felt tears of joy pricking my eyes and felt as though I had returned home into the world of Baroque art.  Now I feel quite fired up and pretty certain that change is afoot for me.

I've think I've rabbited on long enough about sugar and treats, my friends!  I leave you with a picture of my sweet-toothed Tristan, my favourite musician, who always has a creative project up his coat sleeve!

Thank you SO much to all those who take the time to leave a message here.  I know how busy you all are and I truly appreciate the time you take to write a few words.

A bientôt,

Stéphanie

ps Joining in with sweet Hannapat's Weekly Bake. 

* Here is the reference for the sparkly linen as requested by some kind souls: Zweigart 32ct Belfast Lurex Linen.  Now, I found it pretty tricky to find some in the UK but purchased mine from my favourite central Paris shop, Des Fils Et Une Aiguille which has a fabulous online shop too.

Forget Me Not

Dear readers,

 

This is not a blog post as such.  I simply wish to let you know that I am sending you all a warm hug from France.  I am mastering the art (again) of treading carefully whilst I replenish my iron levels (again).  Despite this temporary state of fatigue I am feeling hopeful and excited about current projects and the school year ahead.

Sometime in early summer my blog, Millefeuilles, turned two.  I have experienced so much sweet generosity from so many of you and I would very much like to offer you all a gift; one of my limited edition hares - not Mademoiselle Forget-Me-Not featured below - but a special creature which captures the beauty of summer dreams and the glorious transition into early autumn.  I will be posting pictures of her here during the course of this week and offering you a chance to win her.

 

 

In the meantime I am concentrating on my three dear children and helping them, I hope, to prepare for their return to school tomorrow.

  

Héloïse is embarking on her final year of school...

 Tristan who may be living great changes thanks to his music...

 and finally, Angélique who is starting pre-school (maternelle) tomorrow: a big change for this three-year-old daughter of mine (and her mother too).  I'm wishing for a smooth transition for for all three of them.

 So, I will see you in a few days and I hope you all have a wonderful start to this first week of september.

 

A très bientôt,

 

Stephanie

 

ps Dear Claire, I am busy dreaming of Rapunzel and exquisite yarns.