Dandelion Clocks

 

This is the time when everything drops into the earth.  In spring there is an upward movement all around one, with a lift in plants and trees.  Now it is the time of weight, when seed pod and berry, fruit and leaf fall and return to the earth.  It is truly the Fall, a lovelier word for this season than autumn.

Clare Leighton, Four Hedges (Little Toller Books: Stamford, 2010), p107.

Seedpods decorate the wayside and gardens with an Orient of riches.  They sit atop long stems and, weighing more than the leaves, rise to a certain architectural beauty.  Dry brown purses, spindly candelabras, round pepper shakers and round-hipped cups; with one thwack they scatter seeds higgledy-piggledy, sprinkling a chaotic hoard on the ground beside each plant.

Don't you think the dried-up flowers and chattery pods of some plants look almost unworldly?  Queen Anne's lace pods look like ethereal birds' nests when they are closed.  Asters form fluffy pods and dandelion clocks full moons of silky parachutes.  Autumn may be the season during which everything falls to the ground, transformed with time into decaying matter, but dandelion seeds, with one puff, become windborne, propelled into a floating trance which I almost envy; a far cry from the squashed damsons and decaying quinces I tread into the sodden pathway on my daily walks with Gaspard.

 I may be on the constant lookout for flashes of colour during these autumnal walks but I am, in truth, craving subdued hues these days, a little like the drab, so eloquently described by dear Knitsofacto Annie on her latest post entitled A Dingy Day.  During my evenings of knitting last week - such a treat - I snubbed my fabulous stash of mostly kaleidoscopic yarns and reached out for a single skein of Madelinetosh Merino Light in the delicate colourway Calligraphy.

It was time to create something for the eldest daughter of the household (our feisty youngest is very well served in the knitted garment department) and the beautiful cowl pattern, Dandelion Days, won instant favour with Héloïse.  Not in the lustrous yellow of the original pattern however but in the colour of dandelion clocks.  It is a perfect pattern with four eighteen row repeats, once the eyelet edging is completed, each row divided into twelve clusters of sixteen stitches.  A perfect balance between varied and meditative knitting.

My Ravelry notes for Dandelion Clocks may be found here. 

On a fraught day of university application deadlines during those first cold-ridden days of half-term (I can truthfully say that the final year of Baccalauréat preparation in France is intensive and exhausting) we grabbed an hour to be outside in the waning sunshine.  Both mother and daughter were pale and a little on edge - it was one of those days - but Héloïse graciously succeeded in shaking off a day's accumulation of tension infront of the eager camera.

Not all days are plain sailing, you will agree, but I choose to recall the glint of the October sunlight on my eldest daughter's hair instead of my unnecessarily sharp words: her pleasure whilst watching this cowl blocking on her bed instead of the nagging sadness that I am not in England with my parents on their respective birthdays this week.  Surely, in retrospect, the good moments prevail over the not-so-good?  I am mostly endeavouring, these days, to find the balance between the thrill and the inevitable wrench of my first-born daughter leaving our home in a few fleeting months.

So here's to those few months and savouring them to the full before this silken dandelion seed of a wonderful daughter floats off to take root somewhere else.

Before I leave I wish to share my huge admiration for the courage of this lady who has, through the past exceedingly difficult months, never ceased to capture and share her own unique and marvellous sense of beauty.  And finally to express my gratitude for another inspiring woman who always makes me feel ridiculously happy after reading each and every one of her blog posts.  Thank you, Lori, for the precious giveaway yarn and sea glass you sent from California to France.  Be patient a little while I transform your sea-coloured yarn into something worthy of its beauty.  Pictures to follow!

A bientôt,

Stephanie

Tchaikovsky And A Teacup

Dear readers,

I blame Tchaikovsky for my obssession with themes and images.  My first trip to London to see The Nutcracker took place when I was seven, thanks to Robert Mayer's Concerts For Schoolchildren.  You will understand that, as a child, half the fun with such an outing was the idea of taking a coach with a gaggle of school friends, and a scumptious picnic. The concert may even have taken second place in my list of fun things that day.  But that ballet, well, suffice to say it marked me for life.  I was entranced by the notion one could create music, a choreography, and a costume to portray such things as hot chocolate, tea, or coffee and the scenery for Act IV, The Land Of Sweets conquered my imagination completely.  In other words, I discovered that a theme, such as drinks or sweets in this case, could incite a spectacular variety of artistic créations. 

Of course, if I am to lay blame on Tchaikovsky, Hoffmann should bear his share of responsibility too; the composer's libretto being a sweetened version of the German author's dark and provocative tale written in 1816.  A while back I explained why the main message behind Hoffmann's story struck a chord with me, namely the importance to free children's imaginations so that they may fulfill their desires.  To paraphrase Hoffmann, the most wonderful things may be seen if one has the right eyes.

'Though Marie was not allowed to talk about her adventures, the images of that wondrous fairyland hovered around her in sweetly rushing billows and gracious, charming sounds.  She looked at everything once more, focusing sharply.  And so, in lieu of playing as usual, she sat there, quiet and rigid and deeply self-absorbed.  That is why everyone scolded her for being a little "dreamer".'
                                            
extract from E.T.A. Hoffmann, Nutcracker and Mouse King (Penquin Classics, London, 2007) p.59.

And so, as an adult more than ever perhaps, I understand the vital importance of delighting in one's imagination and cultivating a new mode of perception similar to Marie's, Hoffmann's main character, acquired from her time spent in  the dazzling Kingdom Of Dolls.

I am sure you will agree that it doesn't take much to spark one's creativity.  I found this teacup - made in Germany between 1949 and 1955 by Johann Seltmann Vohenstrauss -  and had it shipped over from Amsterdam by two charming ladies who share a common passion for brocante finds.  Juxtaposing this gold and raspberry cup against my French great-grandmother's hand-embroidered placemat triggered faint memories of a theatrical backdrop design - from the Nutcracker perhaps? - and I found myself dreaming of a land full of sweets again!





My children have been clamouring for fudge these days and, when I have a treasured tin of Golden Syrup in my kitchen cupboards - I sadly do not right now as it is devilishly hard to find in France - I always turn to this recipe.  I was intrigued to find, incidentally, that fudge is a relatively modern confection, at least under that name. The Oxford English Dictionary has its first example from as late as 1896, a mere four years after the premiere of Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker ballet in St Petersburg!



And from the pretty colours of that vintage teacup this sweet shrug was born thanks to another delightful knitting pattern, Ice cream Sundae, by Dani Sunshine.  I'm in good company too: Amanda from SouleMama cast off a blue version of the same pattern a few days before.







Ice cream Sundae is a treat.  The scalloped neckline, a few short rows, and the edging which requires picking up stitches around the main body of the knitting make for a fun and quick knit.  This pattern requires one skein only of DK yarn (200 metres) with a little extra for the contrasting colour.  Angélique wanted to slip it on immediately although her face in some of these pictures belies her enthusiasm a little!

My Ravelry notes may be found here.



And here is her tunic - yes, yes, it was mild enough here in Touraine for her to wear it today - made from the Liberty fabric, Scrumptious, which was launched for their Autumn and Winter 2013 collection.  Perhaps I should call it 'Nutcracker'?  There are a myriad of vintage and modern sweets on this fabric which have absorbed my children's attention for a long while.  Those sweets have triggered many memories and anecdotes from my part and, I can tell you, there are a few fudges hiding in that forest of teeth-rotting treats!

And finally, where would I be without a matching hare wearing a fudge-coloured sweater?





Enough said, I think! 

 

I do hope I will be able to find the time over the next few weeks to put my thoughts down here on a fairly regular basis.  I am busy honouring customer orders for a hoard of hares and a few mice too.  I have images, themes, and colours flitting through my head as I sleep as you can imagine.  Thank you Tchaikovsky!

 

 

I wish you all a very happy weekend and a week spiced up with dreams and creatvity.

 

A bientôt,

 

Stephanie

ps The roses in my header picture are reminiscent of the many second blooming roses gracing old stone walls and towering gateways in our village.  They also reveal that I am burying my head in the sand in regards to autumn's arrival!



The Meadow Hare Winner

Oh my, oh my!

 

If I have chosen to portray a small part of Mademoiselle Flower Meadow below it is simply because I wish in some magical way I could give a little piece of her to every single wonderful soul who participated in this giveaway both here and on Madame Millefeuilles.  But that just wouldn't work, would it?  A winner must be chosen and before the very obliging Random Number Generator did its job this morning a lot of additions and, dare I say, a smattering of multiplications needed to be performed with the wonderful list of hopeful shares on Facebook and the numerous cheery comments on this blog.

 

Phew!

 

Before I announce this flowery Demoiselle's destination I really would like to THANK YOU ALL from the bottom of my sincere heart.  There will be other giveaways, I promise!

 

So, this little hare is off to Germany to  live with Bärbel, (aka The Garden Fairy).  Please Bärbel, could you send me your address via e-mail?

 

I will be returning in a few days.  I am dreaming away, stitching and knitting during this wonderful everyday life we live.   I wish you all well.

 

A très bientôt,

 

Stephanie 



Flower Meadow Hare - GIVEAWAY!

Dear readers,

 

Inspiration, I am sure you will agree, may be found in many corners of our lives.  These past few days I have looked for it in the books I read whilst snuggled up with Angélique*, and in the merry profusion of wild flowers, sparkling in the September sun, which, I swear, seem to lift their swaying heads as I approach them on my way to the vineyards.

 Enchanted flower meadows don't just exist in Belle Ile En Mer; I've stumbled across quite a few here in France and there's even one a few minutes stroll away from our home. A 'Van Gogh cornfield or a mad technicolor Liberty print' as Katherine Swift describes them, they are composed of a clever mixture of native and non-native hardy annuals which flower over an extremely long period from mid-June through to early November.  The one nearby, alive with bees and brilliantly charged with colour, boasts blue cornflower, brown-eyed susans, toadflax, yellow corn marigold and self-heal amongst others I cannot name yet.

 A fabulous source of inspiration.

And so, dear friends, to celebrate your kindness and generosity and the past two years of Millefeuilles I have created Mademoiselle Flower Meadow as a GIVEAWAY to you.

She has been such a joy to stitch.  A little Liberty lawn (from the fabric used to make Angélique's summer dress), the softest merino fingering yarn from The Uncommon Thread in the Meadow Grass colourway, a few strands of hand-dyed silk and cotton threads to embroider those meadow flowers and my last piece of 1890s pale yellow lace to trim a pair of bloomers.  Oh, and I mustn't forget the 1940s ivory lace on Miss Hare's skirt either!

 So, if Mademoiselle Flower Meadow finds favour with you there are three ways to win her and you can try all three ways to give yourselves some extra luck.

 

First, all you have to do is to leave a comment at the end of this post.  Everybody is welcome regardless of where you live or whether you are a regular reader of Millefeuilles.

 

For a second chance, if you wish, you can mention this giveaway on your blog or put a link in your sidebar.  Please feel free to choose the picture your prefer for that.

 

Finally, if you are on Facebook, there is a post about this giveaway on my page which if you LIKE and SHARE will give you another chance to win.  Don't forget to leave another quick comment here once you have done the deed to let me know.

 

This giveaway will close on Tuesday 17th September and I will be using the Random Number Generator to pick the winner.

 

Thank you ALL for your encouragement and for leaving such kind comments. 

 

A bientôt,

 

Stephanie

 

* The four illustrations above are from three books all of which are illustrated by my current favourite artist; Charlotte Gastaut.

 

Charles Perrault, Les Fées

Charlotte Gastaut, Le Grand Voyage de Mademoiselle Prudence

Hans Christian Andersen, Poucette

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.



Flower Meadow

Belle Ile en Mer is an enchanted island stretching away from the Quiberon peninsula in southern Brittany.  Fennel and marjoram grow wild on the verge of its narrow lanes and the sea air is so pure it deserves to be sipped like the finest champagne.









 Along the rue des Impressionnistes on the outskirts of the tiny village Kervilahouen, where Claude Monet dwelled from September to November 1886, there is a flower meadow of breathtaking beauty filled with drowsy, drunken bees.  On the final morning of our holiday the children asked to see it one more time before heading out to the beach.  Angélique wore a simple Liberty summer dress, adapted from this book, (and sewn on the eve of our holidays when I should have been packing, sorting, and cleaning instead) and a beret made from The Uncommon Thread's merino fingering in the vibrant Meadow Grass colourway.  The pattern is Alana Dakos's Rustling Leaves Beret, an adult-sized hat which I knitted up on smaller needles to fit  my sweet daughter's head.  The hat was a treat to knit thanks to Alana's flawless pattern.  I had to shake out a sprinkling of sand after casting it off and the look on the kind hotel employee's face when I requested a plate to block the beret with was priceless! 

 

My Ravelry notes may be found here.

 I am grateful to my husband for taking all the picture above of our daughter together with this one below of Port Coton - a stone's throw away from our hotel - where Monet painted Les Aiguilles during his ten-week stay on the island.

 Mostly, however, I am deeply, deeply grateful to my wonderful parents (do you recall my father's ninetieth birthday celebration last November?) for making this holiday possible.  Thanks to them my children's heads are full of precious memories and the bond between cousins, aunts and uncles is stronger still.  My heart is aching now that we have waved good-bye to each and every precious member of this family of ours once again.  Distance can sometimes be cruel, don't you think?

Warmest wishes to you all.  I hope your summer has been filled with magical moments too. It's not over yet!

 

A bientôt,

 

Stephanie

 

ps Dear, dear Claire I simply must tell you how much your beautiful parcel soothed my sad heart on our return to reality yesterday.  You are the most generous-hearted lady and very soon you will be reading more about your exquisite gifts right here.  Thank you!