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



A Frosty Gift (To You)

Dear readers,

 

Generally speaking November does not get a good press.  I don't know about you but I would like to relinquish all notions of a four-quartered year.  The ragged interface, for example, between autumn and winter, which could be considered a short, hybrid season in itself, usually occurs in November, I think.  Rotting leaves turn into a fragrant mulch. Birds still berry in the woods.  The damp air is full of distinct noises; dripping branches and seedpods like tiny rattles on the trees.  The air here in France is cold without being chill.  We no longer fight the urge to close the shutters tight come early evening.  We become homebodies mostly.

 

And then the first, magical frost comes.

 

"There's nothing like a touch of frost to add glamour to the winter garden.  Like hard white icing on a dark fruit cake, it transforms the stuff of everyday life into something special - a birthday or a christening instead of the usual Saturday teatime in front of the telly."

 

Katherine Swift, The Morville Year (p. 244).

 

I love frost!  Don't you?  And I thank Katherine Swift for raising it the thrilling heights of birthday celebrations for I realise now that, undeniable aesthetic values aside, for decades I must have associated the first frosts with my November birthday.  Yes indeed I will be celebrating gaining another year this week.  On the day itself I will be eating out  with a precious friend at our favourite local haunt, La Part Belle and for the first time ever in our nine years of wedded bliss (hee, hee!) MIckaël is taking me away for the weekend to a surprise destination whilst his parents sweetly come and look after our children. I am as excited as can be!

Aside from making 'Eve's Pudding', using my favourite fragrant Blechard apples with a touch of lemon zest, or ''Chocolate Puddle Pudding' served when the children are home from school with a little cream or vanilla ice cream I had to channel my excitement into something more creative and less calorific! 

Here is Mademoiselle Ciel d'Hiver (Winter Sky), an enchanted hare, who represents the most magic of all natural beauty; the unique snowflake, the silvery and intricate calligraphy of Jack Frost (I loved him as a child), the glaze of ice on water, a deep winter sleep, and in particular the winter sky. When I first arrived in France fifteen years ago I settled down in a little fishing village on the Normandy coastline and would follow the country road to get to the nearest town, Bayeux. My first winter left me breathless with excitement. I would slow my car down and gasp at the mist swirling over the frosty pastures and the sky pink, grey, and mauve, with occasional flashes of orange as the sun lazily woke up. It was so beautiful.

Mademoiselle Ciel d'Hiver loves to gaze at the winter landscape suffused with pink light. She will clap her hands with pleasure when the first frost or snowfall occur. In the long evenings when the curtains are drawn she will be supremely content sitting in an armchair with the candles lit and reading a good book such as "The Secret Garden". She is very feminine and quietly spoken and very fond of white icing sugar and silver balls on cakes.

Ivory silk (from Angélique's christening gown) line her ears.  Silvery embroidered snowflakes cover her slender feet and long ears.  Translucent glass beads have been knitted into her little tunic which, to my mind, contains all the colours of the winter sky I first found in France by the sea all those years ago.  And, best of all,  a beautiful ivory lace, HANDMADE by a specialist lacemaker, trims the trousers. It's intricate, regular pattern reminds me of Jack Frost's delicate designs on icy windowpanes and the effect of frosty parterre designs in Baroque and Renaissance gardens. It's the same as the one I used for Mademoiselle Autumn Serenade (hi Claire!).  This little hare appeared in my Etsy shop yesterday and disappeared again, as if by magic, not once but twice (oops).

 In short I have made her, partly, to celebrate my fast approaching birthday, and my favourite books, which I always dip into with every first frost; Marina Warner's book "The Skating Party", and my favourite part of Virginia Woolf's "Orlando" which describes the Great Freeze in London in the sixteenth century.

Do you see the book on the right?  A few days ago Lori, in an inspiring post in which she reveals the most stunning reindeer shawl she knitted herself on her return from adventures in Alaska, eagerly shared her opinion of Eowyn Ivey's The Snow Child.  She wrote; 'the snow child is about homesteading in alaska in the 1920's. magical, delicate, poignant, a beautiful story. and the art work on the cover, LOVE that too'.  It did not take me long to order two copies of this book.  One of these I would like to gift to you.  My copy is patiently sitting on my (dusty) bedside table.  I longingly brush a finger over its beautiful cover every night when I creep into bed well past midnight.  I have many hares to stitch for Christmas, you see, and little time to read.  I love the idea, however, of sending this book out to someone special and reading it together; simultaneously.  Another small connection in this vast world we live in.

So, dear readers, this is my small birthday present to you.  If you are interested in reading The Snow Child simply leave me a comment.  I would be most grateful if you could become a follower too, although it is by no means essential.  (Of course if you care to 'like' my facebook page, Madame Millefeuilles, I would be equally thankful.)  I will announce the winner in a week's time.

 

'Til then, I wish you all a beautiful week and thank you so much for taking the time to visit.

 

A bientôt,

 

Stephanie

 

ps Happy, happy Thanksgiving to all our friends across the seas.  I will raise a glass to you on my birthday :-)