Gently Does It

Dear readers,

Since my previous post I've had to give up any foolish hopes of holding on to early spring.  It's full steam ahead from now on: purple-tinged irises, an abundance of trailing wisteria covering honey-coloured high walls and filling the air with their sweet scent, lily of the valley, lilac, poppies, roses tumbling open against barely unfurled greenery.  All are jostling for attention against a delightful backdrop of carnival-hued tulips with silky petals.  "Look at me, look at us!" they clamour silently.  The primroses are still gracing us with their demure presence.  We must, sadly, bid farewell to the daffodils, narcissi, and wild violets for yet another year.  We are no longer at the awakening of spring but reaching the heady heights of a green countryside punctuated with the brilliance of flowers.  It calls to mind Botticelli's Primavera which depicts Zephyrus hot in pursuit of sparsely clad Chloris, the virginal Greek personification of Spring, and her subsequent transformation into Flora, the Roman goddess of flowers, crowned with blossom, her robe embroidered with pinks and roses, her arms filled with flowers.

Fortunately, I can hold on to those early spring flowers thanks to Silke Leffler's charming illustrations in the children's book below.  Her visual personification of plants always delight me.

Spring so far has brought its fair share of challenges.  Will this be the year we finally sell our fisherman's cottage by the sea after six years of legal struggles?  When will we finally be able to purchase our own home here near Tours? We've also been endeavouring to nuture Héloïse during this Baccalauréat year both physically and emotionally.  She is hoping to leave France in September to take up her offer at Durham University which is thrilling, of course.  However, the complexity of the paperwork involved is challenging my desire to remain serene! Although the pros of living between two countries clearly outweigh the cons the journey is rarely straightforward at the outset.

But that is life, as I am sure you will agree, and there are so many treasure around to enjoy.  Our first visit to the gardens of Villandry this year with its complex boxtree parterres playing shadow games on the fine gravel with sunlight and birdsong everywhere.  The persistant call of the cuckoo.  A harp recital held in the Tours Fine Arts Museum one evening listening to Domenico Scarlatti's music surrounded by eighteenth-century paintings with an enthralled Tristan squeezing my arm.  Actually, there have been a number of concerts this season; each different and all wonderful.  It's good to watch a four-year old Angélique as absorbed by the music as her siblings.

There are two cherry trees in our garden: one is covered with thick pink puffiness the colour of my mother's homemade strawberry ice-cream and frilled with yellow nascent leaves.  The other, fully clothed in pure white, provides us with gentle drifts of petals.  "Look, it's snowing!' cry the children in delight.  But even as I write today the latter has shed its beauty, and the pink wonder is dropping flurries of petals too.  It's all too ephemeral but the lunches beneath the cherry-tree branches this week have been committed to family memory.

And together with the cherry trees and spring comes a surge of inspiration.  Tell me, is this happening to you too?  I am determined to hold on to this natural beauty and the colours by slowly and surely weaving them into my creative projects.  However as I painstakingly stitched Fleur de Cerisier, my cherry blossom doll, with a vintage cotton sheet hand-dyed in Easter tea (such a delicious smell), I realised that my dollmaking skills need to be worked on.  I really need to make more refined facial features!  My initial frustration and disappointment with my completed doll were, fortunately, replaced by the desire to improve my abilities with the next one; to create a completely new pattern.  It is a thrilling thing this creative journey which involves paradoxical feelings of 'this is going to be amazing' to 'oh no, it's really bad' and then back full circle to 'it's pretty good, actually'.

When your creative skills fail you, you can always bake a simple cake with crystallised spring flowers (brushed with egg white and gently coated in white sugar) and eat it under the flowering cherry tree.  

Food for the soul!

So tell me, do you lose confidence in your creative abilities sometimes?  If so, how do you deal with it?

Warmest wishes to you all for a beautiful spring in full flower.

I aim to return soon.

Stephanie

ps I am in two minds about selling Fleur de Cerisier.  If you would like to give her a home just leave me a comment or e-mail me.  Thank you so much.

Flower actresses on a garden stage

In a neighbouring garden the Colette rose - firm buds like young bossoms, opening to light pink blooms with an apricot strain - is towering up the wall, creating a flower trail as it goes.  The real Colette, who wrote books in which she treats flowers and people with equal respect, would love this fountain of pink flowers.

When I was a little girl I believed flowers had faces and personalities.  I imagined the garden was a theatre. On the lawn I would arrange roses in small vases and cups in a semi-circle and I would pretend they were actresses while butterflies flitted and danced against a stage backdrop of blue sky with white clouds.  As an adult I still attribute personal characteristic to flowers and I can almost see them prancing around a horticultural stage.  Clearly the imagination of the nobility residing at the court of Versailles was equally fanciful for Baroque ballets and operas are bursting at the seams with garden nymphs, flowers, and goddesses.

One day in February 2009 I was taking the lift to the Performing Arts study room at the French National Library (BnF).  On arriving at the second floor the lift door juddered open to reveal the above poster on a facing wall and I was rooted to the spot.  My heart was beating a jig.  The Centre national du costume de scène was holding an exhibition of garden inspired stage scenery and costumes from Louis XIV's reign to the present day.  Imagine my elation for the relation between garden and performing arts aesthetics was the pivot of my thesis. 

In the introduction to the superb exhibition catalogue the centre's director, Christian Lacroix, compared the garden to a theatrical space in which the backdrop changes with the passing seasons and the plants and flowers don varied costumes.  It is true that both garden and stage are ephemeral art forms however, fortunately, the spectator can commit to memory a passionate soliloquy or a spectacular rose.  I hope to share with you soon a few of the beautiful costume designs and scenery engravings revealed during the course of this inspiring exhibition.

Maybe some of you are familiar with the work of the German illustrator Silke Leffler?  Over the past few years I have collected prints, cards, children's books, and calenders of her work.  She portrays themes which are dear to my heart: friendship, sweetmeats, Christmas, and, of course, GaRdEnS!

Isn't this enchanting?  Here we have flowers with faces, AND the most delightful outfits. Look at those hats!  I wish I could wear one of those; don't you?

Leffler has illustrated several books.  My favourite is The Flower Ball.  Cauliflower and Carrot scandalize the other vegetables in the potager because they wish to attend the flower ball.  "Beware of the garden flowers beyond the fence - they look down on us", says Lettuce.  However Cauliflower and Carrot are self-confident and they make a beautiful sight at the dance.  Soon the Marigold and a charming Willow Catkin join them and the other flowers start to applaud.

All illustrations are from Silke Leffler's Mein Gartenjahr (Grätz Verlag).

May I ask you for some advice, please?  I am feeling inspired to make a garden theme blanket using the colours in the first illustration portraying the five flower ladies.  I am on the lookout for some DK yarn which is pure wool - with a touch of merino perhaps - which boasts a fairly wide range of colours.  If you have a favourite I would really appreciate you letting me know.  Thank you!

Before I leave you I would like to share the dress I made for Angélique this week.

 It is a simple dress and I am naming it "Dog Rose" after the following picture:

This is the second dress I have made for little Miss A: the first was a very simple christening gown made in a mad rush last August.  The pattern comes from this Japanese book which was written by Yoshiko Tsukiori.  I am surprised that it is only available in French translation but the diagrams are pretty clear to follow, I think. 


I hope you all a happy, inspiring week.  I am taking the children off to England in a few days whilst my dear husband stays behind to work hard.  In France when starting a new job you have to work one whole year before taking a holiday so wish him luck, please!  

See you soon.