yarnstorm

mixed bunch

I caught sight of myself this morning as I walked past the mirror holding a jug of mixed tulips. It made me realise two things; first, that the more tulips you have, real or reflected, the brighter you will feel and second, that our rug* goes beautifully with a mixed bunch.

I'm at the end of four weeks of school holidays and I'm a little weary. It's been a mixed bunch of a month, with two children off at the beginning, an overlap when all three were at home, then just the one. But I can see I am starting to consider the reality of them all being back at school next week - as evidenced by my decision to go for the merriest mix of tulips I could find in the garden today.

 

Having seen the tulips' reflections, I thought I'd play a little more with mirrors. I found it amazing to be able to see more than one view of a vase and a bunch of flowers at a time, and thus compare the effects of different lights (I, for one, am always twirling vases around as I can never decide which is the better 'side').

When I saw the photo below on the computer screen I was delighted to notice that there is even a third arrangement of tulips (in the base of the mirror) which made me think of several well-known paintings that feature convex mirrors which condense a scene into a tiny circle.

Now there's a fine mixed bunch of thoughts.             

               ***

I went to the London Book Fair on Monday. It's not an event for authors but I had to deliver some fairy cakes and have a meeting. Seeing Sebastian Faulks in the flesh stopped me in my tracks momentarily (very tall, very striking, very smart and absolutely no shabby tweed jacket with leather elbow patches or corduroy trousers), but as I couldn't stand there gawping all day, I carried on looking at the publishers' stands.

As ever, I gravitated to the display of Stewart, Tabori & Chang books. This is not just because my book will be published in the US by STC Craft in September 08, but also because they produce the most amazing mixed bunch of craft and interior books which reflect their authors' personalities and visions. There is nothing predictable about STC books, unless it's the fact that they all look wonderful and yet feel very different.

I particularly liked the look of Kim Parker Home and added it to my mental list of books to look out for. But it took a while (Monday to Friday) for the penny to drop. No wonder I was drawn to Kim Parker's style and palette - we already have her in our house. *The rug which goes so well with my mixed bunch is one of her designs.

I now see why this rug appealed when we bought it; it's like having a pressed and dried bunch of flowers on the floor all year round.

Plus, you wouldn't believe how much fun I have hopping and jumping from flower to flower when no-one's looking. And next week, when everyone is finally back at school, I'll be able to hop, skip and jump as much as I like.

time out

Just about the most comfortable spot in the house is the huge, squishy beanbag we bought a little while ago. While the children prefer to launch themselves onto it and burrow down to create a little nesting spot, I prefer to use it as a huge, soft footrest. If you put a cushion (with an Ehrman tapestry cover - done in the days before I started quilting) on top and wear Alice's socks, it's just about perfect.

This is where I have been enjoying time out with books and films and family recently. I've been looking at this utterly amazing book (there are reviews and photos here and here). I love the spontaneity of this form of body art and decoration, the way it's done quickly and without mirrors and, above all, I can't stop looking at the ways in which these people adorn themselves with fruit and vegetables and flowers and leaves. Quite stunning.

I've also read Gee's Bend: The Architecture of the Quilt - you really do need plenty of space on the settee and beanbag when holding it as it's a huge book. It's wonderful to have such large photos of the quilts sitting on your knee and I spent ages looking at the pages with details of the local architecture which has influenced the quilters of Gee's Bend. And I am determined to make my own version of a half log cabin quilt now that I've seen how brilliantly this design can work.

I claimed the beanbag when we finally watched Nanny McPhee the other night. Although the plot's a little thin, it didn't worry me as the more I watched, the more I thought the whole thing was a cleverly constructed, classic pantomime complete with melodrama, farce, magic, fairy tale characters and plots, and wonderfully over-the-top costumes and scenery. The extravagant make-up and costumes and characters were straight out of the theatre but I have to say I have never seen such wonderful bedding on the stage; those quilts and the crochet blanket on the children's beds were just wonderful. Someone clearly had a great time with the props and paint colours.

But I haven't just been sitting with my feet up all the time. Three of us drove to Manchester at the weekend (yes, it rained) and I saw a lovely exhibition at the Whitworth Gallery with a friend from primary school - in between imagining how it would be to live in a room with tall hollyhocks and delphiniums on the walls (and laughing at the idea that children would undoubtedly be tempted to draw little bugs and worms and slugs on the wallpaper panels), we managed a several good hours of 'all our yesterdays'.

And now it's time to be a little more active. So I must go and get the guide books and passports ready, and pack for a trip with Alice and Phoebe.

Back soon.

dove-grey oasis

The pale grey skies yesterday matched the dove-grey exterior

and complemented the spring flowers outside Persephone Books.

The shop is a silvery oasis in London, situated in the wonderfully named and characterful Lamb's Conduit Street (little cafes and delis, flower shop, book shops, pubs and wine bar, and a very imposing undertaker's business), a sort of civilised, homely curiosity shop with a Georgian-style mix of domestic and business (it's both shop and office, but it feels like a large, comfortable room in a private house - cushions and flowers and reference books and wonderful posters all contribute to the atmosphere).

I was there for a stimulating, thoughtful talk by, and lunch with, Christina Hardyment whose book Dream Babies has just been republished. 

I've always been highly sceptical about baby and child advice/gurus; having twins first made me realise very quickly that there was no single babycare theory which could be applied successfully to all babies (especially to two so very different personalities) and I quickly discarded all the books I'd bought. But it's fascinating to hear the historical perspective on childcare, and Christina Hardyment treads a careful path through this minefield.

Going into Persephone Books for a couple of hours is like coming upon an oasis. I go to imbibe the atmosphere of gentle intellectual debate and to meet thoughtful, interesting women. Last time I was there in December, I was the speaker and I made some Persephone fairy cakes for the occasion.

But it was lovely to be spoken to, and catered for, this time.

new season

I was buying flowers to give to a friend when I saw a bucket of tightly curled, pale orange parrot tulips and I couldn't resist a couple of bunches for myself as a promise of things to come.

It's not quite the season yet (although I've seen a few species tulips popping up here and there) and I know these are forced for the market, but they served as a welcome reminder that it's long now till tulip-time. I've started surveying the garden on a daily basis to see what's happening with our own tulips, and already there's enough going on to keep me in a general state of low-key excitement. 

Although these weren't labelled, I'm pretty sure they are 'Orange Favourite'. They start off relatively peachy and palely blushing but they turn into raving tangerine beauties as they open up. They are lighting up my windowsill and making a wonderful still-life with the best brand of sliced bread, the electronic egg-timer Simon & Phoebe gave me, and a subtle colour of sock yarn.

And in the spirit of looking forward and thinking about what comes next, last night I read The Creative Habit by Twyla Tharp from cover to cover. This is a book that Jan recommended to me a long, long time ago, but somehow or other I never found the right moment to read it. Like the tulip bulbs, it lay dormant under a few layers of books until I unearthed it the other day during my big office tidy-up. It's very focussed, well written, thought-provoking and, for me, reassuring and revealing.

New books, new thoughts, new flowers. Ah, the joys of a new season.

 

the final flourish

This is it. The last recipe to be tested for the book. It's also a first as I've never made a walnut cake before and I am relieved I didn't have to go through several versions on this final day. Apart from anything else, levels of icing sugar have fallen dangerously low and I might have had to go out to get some more. How ironic that would have been after six months of having cream and butter fall out of the fridge every time we open it, bags of flour crammed into cupboards, and layers of different coloured sugars on every available shelf.

And now I feel like a free woman. Tomorrow, for the first time in fourteen and a half months I'll be able to wake up without thinking about a book deadline. My calendar has suddenly opened up and I realise there is life beyond 14 March, and yet I feel strangely unprepared for the freedom. Maybe I just need to re-test a few recipes...   

So what am I going to do with my time?

I am going to sort out my office. I have a disconcerting ability to ignore the fact that the whole room has crept up around me while I've been working, and I need to rediscover its real boundaries by moving dozens and dozens of children's books, papers, recipe books. I might even find there is room to swing a cat in here.   

I am going to read some grown-up books without looking for food moments and treats. This will be difficult as I've grown so used to my eyes scanning pages for mentions of cakes, biscuits, eggs, ginger, jam, sandwiches, picnics that I'm going to have to readjust to reading whole chapters again. But I suspect I'll still be thrilled when I meet a scone or a fruit cake.

I am going to knit and quilt. The thing I've been looking forward to most is moving away from the computer screen and having something soft and colourful in front of me again. Life will cease to exist in black and white and will turn into glorious Technicolour rather like one of the wonderful transitions in A Matter of Life and Death.

I am going to soak up some new ideas and inspiration. I have my tickets booked and I'm going to be doing some visiting and travelling.

I am going to get some fresh air. Goodness knows, my lungs need some.

I am going to get some sleep. Goodness know, my brain needs some.

Best of all, I am going to spend time with Simon, Tom, Alice and Phoebe who have been amazing over the last year and have seen me through some pretty tricky moments. And they have been the best treat-eaters a cook could ever wish for. This walnut cake is for them.

   

 

spring in my step

I'm a little earlier than usual this year. Normally, it's towards the end of March that I start to think about seeds and buds and shoots, but I've found that I already have a spring in my step. Maybe it's the sight of the huge, closed-up flowers on 'my' magnificent magnolia (it's not mine at all, it's about two miles from home, but I have an almost proprietorial interest in it). Maybe it's the fact that I can sense the freedom from the desk and screen that will come at the end of the week. Or maybe it's the colours of the socks I'm knitting - spring green and blossom white.

Whatever the reason, I'm back to reading gardening articles and books with a sense of purpose once more. So I was delighted to see that Elspeth Thompson's article on Sunday was about creating a patchwork quilt effect in allotments and vegetable gardens. Just the kind of thing I love. And then I saw the mention of me and my book, and my day was made. The newly found spring in my step turned into a little jump.

I have been reading Elspeth's columns for years and I love her thoughtful but down-to-earth words and advice, and her eye for beautiful plants and flowers, so I was thrilled to discover last night that she's a reader of this blog. And she tells me she has a website - in the colours I have always associated with her such as grey, lilac and a very specific glaucous green - and a blog about her railway carriage eco-house which will have a sedum roof, an idea that has intrigued me since the time I used to play with my friend in an old air-raid shelter which was covered with living plants. I am really looking forward to following the story and am pleased we'll also be able to see the wonderful pictures to go with the text. 

Spring has defintely sprung a spring in my step and I haven't felt this bouncy in a long time.

another big favour

I need a little help with the subject of classic Australian treats. Does anyone know of any famous Australian children's books which mention treats such as lamingtons, Anzac biscuits, pavlova or peach melba? Although illustrated books and titles for very young readers often have lovely foody illustrations or rhymes, these are not what I'm looking for. So if anyone has a favourite book with a classic treat, I would love to hear from you.

Just so you know - Seven Little Australians and camp-fire damper are already on the list.

Thank you.

 

bun-run

We're having a bit of a bun-run here. The new book includes several recipes for traditional, yeast-raised buns such as sticky buns, jammy buns, currant buns and spice buns, so we've been bun-baking in the morning and the evening (see buns below in the gloaming)...

...and in the middle of the day (see hot cross buns below in the weak afternoon sun - I know it's not Easter yet but the recipe - and the deadline - couldn't wait).

I've never been one for a 'baking day' (unlike Milly-Molly-Mandy's Muvver who always bakes on a Saturday morning) as I think everyday has potential for baking. And we have also come to realise that any time of the day is good. This morning I'd made a big fruit cake and 18 eclairs by 9am, and Phoebe often puts her apron on after school when I announce that something I've been writing about needs to be tested and tasted.

Despite the element of pressure, it has to be said that the bun-run has been most enjoyable. I mean, when you get to eat something like this (a Devonshire split) after slaving away over yeasty dough it hardly counts as work, does it?

possibilities

I'm not a great one for yarn stashes. I don't know whether it's the puritan in me (ha) or a habit ingrained during my student days when I would plan my knitting and save up for yarn for weeks and weeks, but I'm not comfortable with having lots of unused yarn around, waiting on the off-chance that it will be knitted.

Actually, I think it's because I still relish daydreaming and picturing whatever it is I want to knit in a thousand different colourways, flitting between patterns that appeal, and generally taking my time, considering different labels and fibres and sources and possibilities, browsing books and magazines and websites. And it's all guilt-free.

I have slowly realised recently that I haven't knitted a sweater for myself in a long, long time. This came to me as I read these three wonderful knitting books: Knitting in America by Melanie Falick, The Fair Isle Knitting Handbook by Alice Starmore and The Art of Fair Isle Knitting by Ann Feitelson. These have taken me back to where I started with knitting - garments, fair isle and aran - and it gradually dawned on me that I want to knit a big, warm, complicated piece for myself, the kind of thing I did for years and years before I had children. I want to show off the yarn, the design, the stitches, and I want to immerse myself in knitting.

And now that I have decided to do this, I have carte blanche to consider the options. Do I knit something in wonderfully traditional Fair Isle yarn? I have just received the shade card from Jamiesons - real, Shetland wool in 160 real Shetland colours. Enough to keep me happy for days and weeks while I imagine colour combinations...

...and pore over Alice Starmore's book. This is a gift, a very special gift. It's one of those books I was talking about in my last post that should never be have been allowed to go out of print. It's an amazing resource, and the sections on colour and inspiration are phenomenal, and I can't believe I own a copy. No more reading it in the British Library and trying to commit each page to memory.

Or should I return to cables and stitch patterns and knit a sweater like the one in Knitting in America by Kristin Nicholas? Should it be classic off-white? Or tweedy and earthy? Or pale blue or lilac for a change?

Ah, the possibilities are endless. And, as these books remind me, there's no rush.

* Alice Starmore's book was published as Alice Starmore's Book of Fair Isle Knitting in the US (Taunton Press, 1988) and as The Fair Isle Knitting Handbook in the UK (Blandford Books, 1990).

specialist knowledge

Hippeastrum 'La Paz' is a modern hybrid, a member of the American Cybister group, to be precise. It was bred by Fred Meyer who had a lifelong passion for unusual plants and who bred Cybisters (nine of which were commercially available by 2002) with strange shapes and frilly-edged tepals and intricate patterns and exotic colours. Other Hippeastrums in the group include H. 'Emerald', H. 'Reggae', H. 'Tango', H. 'Chico', H. 'Flamengo'. He obviously had quite a flair for plant names, too.

I know all this from reading Hippeastrum: The Gardener's Amaryllis by Veronica Read which is one of those treasure troves of specialist knowledge which should never be allowed to go out of print. Veronica Read holds the National Plant Collection of Hippeastrums (I once saw a programme about her and couldn't believe how many plants she had inside her house) and her book, published in 2004, is a wonderful companion to amateur bulb growing. But it's already out of print; I have a copy because I was lucky enough to find one marked down to half-price at the end of last year. 

I love quirky books full of quirky information, especially when they are about quirky plants. If I hadn't read Veronica on 'La Paz' I would have thought it was a rare species that exists only in remote mountainous areas of Brazil, not something created in the US for easy domestic cultivation in the twenty-first century.

I find there is great pleasure to be had in immersing myself in the minutiae of another person's passion. It's incredible how far you can go with Hippeastrums and I love the fact that even though this is a very studious, botanical study, there are also frequent glimpses of excitement in the descriptions of the plants. Of the Cybisters, Veronica Read writes, 'Some have delightful, sharply pointed, curvaceous buds which remind me of the heads of newly hatched chicks, and some flowers look more like exotic insects'. Excellent.

When it comes to specialist knowledge, you simply cannot beat the book.