Cornflower

Two Scottish gardens

    Please forgive the redirection to Instagram but I'm still having difficulty inserting clear photographs here, so if you'd like to see pictures of the atmospheric (and deserted) garden at Edinburgh's Malleny House, and the more populated but equally charming one at Culross Palace over in Fife, then click here and here and use the arrows to scroll through.

Home sweet home

    You may have seen Kate Mears' book A Year Around Our House featured on the Persephone Post a few months ago*. If not, do visit Kate's website to see some of the beautiful watercolours she used for her portrait/history of her Somerset house - they are so full of warmth and light and gentle colour and speak to the comfortable atmosphere of what is clearly a much-loved, welcoming family home and a charming garden.

*March 11th. - 15th.

Thought for the day

    Seen on a visit to Culross.

Wool and words

    "Women who spin, knit and weave are legend, from Homer's Penelope, unravelling and reweaving a shroud as she waits for Odysseus's return, to mythic Ariadne, saving Theseus in the Cretan labyrinth with her ball of yarn. In Greek mythology, the three Fates, the Moirai, hold the mother thread of life - Clotho spins it, her sister Lachesis measures it, and Atropos clips it short. In Norse mythology, the Norns, goddesses wielding shears and spindles, do likewise. Women with their spinning wheels have long been agents for change and enchantment.

    It's not only the tales we tell, but how we tell them. Wool has left its mark on our speech. When we want to recount a story, we spin a yarn. If we deceive, we pull the wool over people's eyes. For centuries, female spinsters (the masculine form is 'spinner') spun wool to earn their livelihood, and the word gradually became synonymous with 'unmarried woman', one not dependent on her husband for her keep. We weave narratives as we weave cloth, and our words for them are bound together: 'text' and 'textile' share the same Latin root, textere, to weave. Our terms for working wool and words intertwine."

    Esther Rutter, This Golden Fleece.

Tussie-mussie

" February 26, 1950

    A dear near neighbour brought me a tussie-mussie this week. The dictionary defines tuzzy-muzzy, or tussie-mussie, as a bunch or posy of flowers, a nosegay, and then dis-obligingly adds that the word is obsolete. I refuse to regard it as obsolete. It is a charming word; I have always used it and shall continue to use it, whatever the great Oxford Dictionary may say [...]"

    Vita Sackville-West, In Your Garden

                                                    ~~~~~

    The Mount Vernon Ribbons and Cornflower mug, a gift from Cheryl, graces tables more stylish than mine (see at 3.38)!