Threads of Life

 

Easter dinner table a few years ago set on a vintage tablecloth from my mother-in-law. She didn't often use her table linens, and gave me quite a few of them. My own mother had similar tablecloths, but they have been long worn out by frequent use. 

Everywhere I look in my home there are textiles, from the carpet on the floor to the cushions on the couch, tea towels and napkins in the cupboard, sheets, quilts, and towels upstairs, and of course, the clothes I'm currently wearing. 

I recently finished reading Threads of Life: A History of the World Through the Eye of a Needle by Clare Hunter, and have been looking at the textiles in my home a bit differently ever since. 

This piece of threadwork, a bed canopy, was likely worked by Anne Boleyn, mother of
Queen Elizabeth I. Seen at Sudeley Castle in 2016. 

The book chronicles the story of textiles beginning with the Bayeux Tapestry, a piece of linen 70 metres (230 feet) long and 50 centimetres (20 inches) high that illustrates the Norman Conquest of England and the events leading up to it. Stitched by unknown hands not too long after the events, history is silent about the women who plied their needles, adding personal touches to the story, and making their voices heard. 

Thrifted damask linen napkins dyed with indigo.

I found it fascinating to learn how Mary, Queen of Scots, cousin to Elizabeth I, carefully chose her clothing at crucial moments in her lifetime to convey varying sentiments. For her execution she wore crimson brown, the colour of martyrdom in the Catholic Church. Such soft power is still used by the Royal Family today, reflected in wardrobe choices such as King Charles wearing his Canadian military medals several times in the past months. 

Personally, I love textiles of all sorts, looking at them, touching them, and working with them. In my sewing room there are stacks of fabrics that inspire me. I've not sewn much lately, but enjoy simple embroidery that transforms a piece of linen. In 1893 an unknown writer said,

 "The new embroidery is common in this respect to the oldest arts. It takes the everyday things in life, and by the simple individualistic process, seeks to make them beautiful as well as useful." 

(quoted from Studio magazine)

The idea of making useful things beautiful goes along with William Morris' words

"Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful." 

I'm glad that for the most part I don't have to choose between useful and beautiful, for well-designed useful things have a beauty all their own. 

My husband's grandmother crocheted the tablecloth in the above photo, probably in the mid-1960s. The motifs are dense with fine stitches and it's something I treasure. I hope that I will pass this work of family art down to one of my own daughters, who will value it equally. 

From my mother I have handmade quilts, cross stitch pictures, and the memory of many items of clothing made throughout the years, such as our Easter outfits seen above. We are standing in front of our car by a motel where we stayed. And when I look at these photos, I see my mother sewing at the kitchen table in the evenings, listening to the radio after we children were put to bed. My father was a trucker and was gone often when I was very young. Sewing was a way not only for my mother to clothe her children, but an enjoyable way to while away the lonely evenings. 

I also find pleasure in a utilitarian stack of tea towels neatly ironed and folded, and in silky old damask linen napkins loosely folded and ready to place on the table. Crisp bedsheets and pillowcases make getting into bed delightful. I savour the softness of a towel pulled off the rack to dry my skin. 

Textiles in the world today are often thought of as disposable. The silks, wools, cottons, and linens of yesterday are often difficult to find, and expensive. But they are so much nicer to wear, look more luxurious, and are kinder to the environment. I wonder what historians of the future will think of our use of textiles. 

Do you have textiles you treasure? Pieces passed down from family members? 

 

A Friday in Spring

 

I awake to the sound of exuberant singing outside my window - birds singing their morning hymn to welcome the day. 

In the woods where I walk the Fawn Lilies (erythronium montanum) brighten the green with their shy stars. 

Native to North America, they bloom for a short while in spring, along paths and in tree-shaded meadows, no more than 8-12 inches above the ground. Another blogger, in Cornwall, found the pink version in Trelissick Gardens. 

Out of the woods, there is at least one cherry tree (prunus) frothy with blossom, on every street. Some streets are lined with them, an avenue of pink. Even on a dull day they glow. 

Rain threatened, but none fell. Soon the Garry Oaks will be covered in a faint cloud of acid green that quickly turns to full leaf. I am filled with immense delight at the sight of the earth springing up from her winter sleep. 

In my own garden colour appears in the flower beds. I picked a sample yesterday and had a fun few minutes arranging them for a photo. Later, I realized I had missed a few. 

I plan to spend this morning in the garden, trimming, potting up a few vegetables for the potager, and generally enjoying the day that promises to be sunny. There was a bit of frost on the roofs last night, but that bodes well for a clear day. 

I baked a batch of Hob Nobs this week, a delicious British cookie (biscuit), redolent with butter and oats. The secret ingredient is Golden Syrup, and I had a can of Lyle's Golden Syrup in my cupboard. I confess to licking the spoon after pouring out what I needed. So delicious. These are a bit thinner than I usually make, but the man who eats most of my baking says that improves the chocolate to cookie ratio. 

This week I also made Potsticker Soup from Brenda's blog, and Endives au Jambon. An Asian-inspired dish and a French one. What a long way from the meat, potatoes, and vegetables of my childhood. Those are still cooked here and are delicious, but how I enjoy a variety of food. 

Currently reading The Comfort of Crows by Margaret Renkl, and The Sweet Taste of Muscadines by Pamela Terry. 

Wishing you a weekend of sunshine and beauty. 

A Rainy Day Road Trip

 

Above is Saanich Inlet, curving around steep, tree-covered mountains, layer upon layer, with clouds drifting in the valleys. Even on a rainy day, it's a beautiful sight. 

My husband celebrated a birthday last week. We like to make the day special and I planned it, not telling him where we were going until just before. The Malahat Skywalk is a new attraction, built by the Malahat First Nation. An elevated boardwalk leads from the visitor centre to the spiral tower through the coastal rainforest. There is no elevator at the tower, but walking up the 10 storey structure is made easy by 600 metres of gradual incline. 

The view over Saanich Inlet is broad and extends to many of the islands surrounding us. 

A curving slide is one way down. Tim chose the slide. I chose the walkway. He was at the bottom long before I was. Maybe next time I'll try the slide. 

Lunch was next on the agenda. We tried out a new pub overlooking Shawnigan Lake. Raindrops splashed the water while we enjoyed good food and warming tea (for me) and coffee (for him). 

I thought we could visit the Kinsol Trestle next. Rain kept falling, but we had our rain gear along. Construction on the wooden rail trestle began in 1914 but was halted due to the First World War. After the war, construction resumed and was completed in 1920. The railway was used to transport logs to sawmills and ports. In 1979 the last railcar passed over the trestle. 

The Kinsol Trestle is one of the highest wooden trestles in the world, standing 44 metres above the river, and stretching 187 metres long. When we first visited this spot about 20 years ago, a fire from 1988 had destroyed some of the structure, making it uncrossable. 

A conservation project began in 2008, replacing damaged beams. Each beam was carved with its place in the structure and those marks can be seen today. Handrails were added to the sides of the railbed, making it safer to walk. 

We walked the length of the trestle and then underneath, looking up through the timbers to the heart of the structure. Moss covers the cement foundation piers. 

Our recorded history is not long compared with Europe. However, I think of the effort it took to make such a railway through the dense forest and over rivers in deep canyons. It took perseverance and determination. 

It was a fun day for the two of us. On Saturday we held a family party with the children and grandchildren - chaotic and enjoyable. 

Five to Delight on Friday

 

Tugboat seen along a walk along the breakwater in downtown Victoria

Here we are at the end of another month, and one-quarter through 2025. 

We took a walk through the neighbourhood yesterday evening in warm (14C) temperatures with more humidity than usual. Thunder rumbled and occasional shafts of lightning arced high above us. Only a few fat raindrops fell before we arrived home again, but then the heavens opened and rain fell in sheets. This morning the air is fresh and cool, with a watery blue sky mostly hidden behind pale grey clouds moving in from the Pacific. 

Big boats on an even bigger boat being transported who knows where

In the potager seeds are beginning to emerge - peas, spinach, radishes - and I've planted out onions and kale that I started indoors and moved to the greenhouse. Sweet peas next, and Snapdragons are ready to plant outdoors. The flower beds hold bright spots of colour - daffodils, hyacinths, muscari - and the sharp points of tulip leaves.

Himalayan Blue Poppy seen in the indoor Spring Prelude at Butchart Gardens

Several people inquired about the squash lasagna I mentioned in my last post. I used my regular recipe for Bolognese sauce and the filling (cottage cheese or ricotta). In place of the pasta, I cut butternut squash into rectangular pieces to fit into my dish, about 1 cm or a thick 1/4 inch thick. Before assembling the lasagna, I brushed the squash with olive oil and roasted it at 425 F until tender. 

There are many recipes online for Butternut Squash Lasagna, but I've found that baking the squash from raw in the casserole tends to take a very long time and can become quite watery. I also have a Butternut Squash Lasagna recipe on my recipe blog - it's a vegetarian version. 

Bellis Daisies growing outdoors at Butchart Gardens

I read Erica Bauermeister's The Scent Keepers this week, picked up from the library more because I enjoyed her other novels than being taken with the premise of this one. Once I started, however, I could not stop. Her descriptions of the landscape of the west coast evoked memories of our boating excursions, so much so that I wondered if she had visited some of the same remote places. As I read at the end of the book, she had, setting her story in the remote Broughton Archipelago, where islands jut straight out of the sea and tidal lagoons are crossed only at slack tide. It's a wild and wonderful place we visited in 2018, my first post is here, and one we hope to visit again this June, weather dependent. 

The Scent Keepers left me stunned with its beauty, the thoughts and feelings of a girl who grew up away from human contact other than her father, and the idea of being able to capture moments in scent as humans have learned to do with our sight and hearing. Relationships in the story are tangled and make for captivating reading. 

A bouquet of grocery store tulips

Two weeks of Spring Break are almost over. I've spent a little more time with the grandchildren while they've been off school - going out for lunch one day and baking madeleines, plus time here at home. They grow up so quickly. 

Light stays now later than 7 pm. How I love the longer days. And no matter how cold, wet, or snowy the weather can be in March, spring is inevitable. I'll leave you with a few words by Daniel Blajan from his delightful book Foxgloves and Hedgehog Days: Secrets in a Country Garden:

If one is to believe the almanac, it is easy to distinguish one season from another. It rigidly divides the year into four equal parts; on the twenty-first of March winter simply slinks away and in comes spring, tripping like a prima ballerina through our gardens. Nature, however, sublimely ignores these calendric hints and frequently neglects to indicate a clear borderline between the two. An unusually mild day in January's tail never fails to trick the birds into a feeble and premature Jubilate, whereas I remember occasions on which the daffodils sported idiotic coiffures of snow as late as April.

Sights from the Week

 

Astronomical vs meteorological spring - which one do you celebrate? In school we were taught the astronomical version of seasons based on the relative position of the Earth to the sun. I've heard of more and more people marking the beginning of March as spring's start. 

I've enjoyed some lovely walks this past week, in sunshine, under grey monotone skies, and in a bit of drizzle. I often admire the red house I see on one of my routes. It looks a bit Scandinavian to me. The prunus blossoms show up so well against the red siding. 

I stopped to watch a pair of Downy Woodpeckers among the trees. How quickly they move, flitting here and there looking for food. 

In the same trees a pair of Spotted Towhees chased each other up and down, round and round in a mad flurry of feathers. 

A surprise when I looked at my photos - I caught the pair of them, just barely. 

Yesterday I spent much of the day at my daughter and son-in-law's new home. They have a large property and it has not been taken care of for quite some time because the owner became ill. My co-mother-in-law and I spent an hour or more clearing up a front garden bed and discovered roses, tulips, and many peonies. 

I decided to stay a little longer and did some more work, clearing a row of rosebushes - liberating them from a wild tangle of thorny blackberries. My hands are quite torn up, despite wearing gloves. But it was a most satisfying job. 

Prunus blossoms along a wooded path. In the past week or 10 days much springs up from the earth or bursts into flower. It's invigorating. Then there are the days when rain pours down and it's good to be cozy indoors reading, sewing, or cooking. 

I did a little tour of my own garden this morning. The layered and ruffled leaves of Columbine glistened with miniscule water droplets. Lots of daffodils bloom along with hyacinths. I find that the hyacinth bulbs I plant rarely grow into the perfect specimens I see in the nurseries. I wonder why that is? They are one-sided or missing a florets. But they are still beautifully fragrant and colourful. 

Friends are coming for dinner tonight. I'm making a lasagne with butternut squash in place of noodles, beets with a honey citrus glaze, asparagus, a salad, and focaccia bread. One friend is bringing dessert and the other an appetizer. It will be lovely to be together around the table.  

Friday Thoughts on Spring

 

Trees still show their skeletal outlines, brown against blue sky and wispy clouds. Stems are swelling and I expect a burst of bright acid green leaves any day now. Grass here stays green all winter, so that's nothing new. Along one of my walking routes there is a naturalized garden. It's now full of purple and white croci, pink cyclamen, a few yellow daffodils, and dots of blue scilla. 

We stayed up a bit late last night to catch a glimpse of the lunar eclipse. The moon was two-thirds covered when I went to bed, so I didn't see the blood-red colour. It was fun going outside every 15 minutes or so to see the progress being made. 

I struggle to find words these days. The world is in such turmoil because of greedy, power-hungry men. I vacillate between not reading any news at all followed by gorging myself when I realize how many new complications and threats have happened. Threats of annexation and re-drawing international borders, along with tariffs and blatant disrespect of my country have my head spinning. And yet, as my husband reminds me, we sleep at night in peace, not worrying about bombs and violence as so many in the world experience - Ukraine, Gaza, Israel, and more. 

And I notice the first buds of Flowering Red Currant. How beautiful the colour, how intricate the unfolding leaves. I am reminded of Jesus' words in Matthew "Therefore, I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear? ... Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them." 

In these unexpected and tumultuous times, I am leaning on my faith, trusting God, and asking for grace to show kindness to all. 

The first rhododendrons are blooming, not in my garden, but in my neighbourhood. Such wonderful colour to brighten the grey days. As Lucy Maud Montgomery wrote in her journal, "Yet it is a joyous young world now and its beauty is as new wine to me...I feel again my old joy in mere existence - in the blue sky, the greenness of the southern slopes and the airy charm of pussywillows."

And so today I baked cookies, did laundry, and will be hosting our youngest daughter and her family tonight as they prepare to move to a new home tomorrow. Ordinary life may seem commonplace, but how beautiful its quiet rhythm can be. Joy wells up. 

Five to Delight on Friday

 

While working in the garden on a sunny day, I noticed these tiny Trumpet (Cup) Lichens growing on some old wood. No more than 2.5 cm in length (1 inch), they grow on every continent including Antarctica. Amazing. 

I'm reveling in the longer days and brighter sunshine. While walking yesterday, I turned a corner and suddenly the sun was behind me, warm on my back. So lovely. 

Tangerine oranges from Australia on a plate from Mexico provide a wonderful study of complementary colours. In my childhood we only saw tangerines or mandarins at Christmas, brought home from the store in wooden crates, each orange globe wrapped in thin green paper. How special they were. A few days before the 25th my mother would put out a bowls of unshelled nuts and mandarins along with a few smaller dishes of candy. It was the only time of year that she bought candy. 

To serve guests not long ago I made an unbaked cheesecake with a blueberry topping and a ginger cookie base. I added a few frozen cranberries to the blueberry sauce and I think the tartness enhanced the sometimes bland flavour of blueberry. In the freezer there are several more tubs of blueberries from last summer. It's time to use up the fruit as summer approaches and a new crop of berries is destined for the freezer. 

New note cards are inspiring a bit of snail mail correspondence. I found them in a little independent bookstore in Oak Bay. Receiving a hand-written note is still a special thing in my mind. 

Clumps of bright Tête-à-tête daffodils dot the garden beds. I cut a small bouquet for the kitchen window. How cheerful they are. We're expecting an atmospheric river over the weekend and today's skies were an anticipatory grey. 

Just visible in the blur behind the daffodils is my new greenhouse. It's not large, but Tim built shelves to my specifications and there are trays of onions, kale, lettuce, and sweet peas beginning to grow nicely. I cover the plants at night as we still drop down to freezing if the skies are clear. I'm looking forward to growing plenty of produce this summer, following British gardeners such as Charles Dowding and Jamie Walton (Nettles and Petals). There is a wealth of advice on YouTube along with books from the library. 

I am thankful for my peaceful home, my garden, and the lovely place where I live. So many others in this world lack access to these things. There is tension here in Canada, and a determination to stand strong together. Looking for daily beauty, purchasing with discrimination, and practicing kindness are some of the things I'm focusing on. As Tolkien wrote, 

"I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo.

"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."

With those wise words, I wish you all a beautiful weekend. And if an atmospheric river is headed your way, stay dry!

Bouncing into March

 

March might be the most capricious month of the year. She came in like a lamb, warm with a bit of sunshine. False spring we call it here because we know that there will be blasts of cold weather ahead. For now, I'm enjoying the warmth. 

Yesterday was cloudy, but no rain fell. A steel grey sea and a great variety of cloud formations. Good for walking and observing. 

In more sheltered areas, the sea was a beautiful green-blue. Small rocky islets would be fun to explore via kayak on a summer day. Something to keep in mind. 

Prunus blossoms are just beginning to open. All those gold-tipped stamens like long eyelashes fill me with delight. 

Birds are taking full advantage of the season. This Red-winged Blackbird sang his song and didn't seem to mind my camera at all. 

Northern Flickers are such elegant birds with their smooth feathers and patterned neutral colours. A group of them pecked away at the ground finding all sorts of things to eat. 

How lovely to see a pair of swans at the lagoon. I am curious about the difference in their beaks - are they two different species or a male and female? One looks like a Trumpeter Swan and the other a Mute Swan. They seemed very much a pair. 
How dull the grasses on shore look. The end of winter can be a drab time, but soon life will emerge bright green. 

At 5 am this morning I was awakened from a deep sleep by the house shaking in an earth tremor. The ten seconds of movement seemed very long. I stayed in bed but didn't manage to sleep any longer. So it's been a slower day around here. 

On a Tuesday in February

 

Tuesday are when granddaughter Cora comes over. We spend the morning together, then I take her to afternoon pre-school. Today we baked gingersnaps together and then enjoyed them with a cup of tea. When I said I only wanted one cookie and she could have two, she asked for a cookie bag which she tucked into her back pack to give to her sister after school. Such a generous heart for a four-year-old. 

There are so many wonderful children's books to read, and libraries are wonderful resources. We had fun reading these tales of a beautiful French snail. 

"It has been a long winter, and Escargot is suffering from 'ennui,' which is the feeling you have when you are bored with everything."

So we talk about ennui and she decides that she is not experiencing it. 

After a night where wind howled around the corners of the house and rain gushed down, there was sunshine this afternoon. The pot on my porch is sheltered from the weather and here Tête-à-tête daffodils have burst into bloom, shining golden in the sun. 

Two small pots of Siberian Irises have suddenly bloomed, as well. The parade of blossoms is beginning. 

I have been feeling a bit of ennui myself lately, unable to settle to much. Sunshine and tea with little girls are great tonics. Tomorrow is a home day and I am looking forward to tidying my sewing room which has become a bit of a catchall for odd bits and pieces. I try to remember to "don't put things down, put them away," good advice that I don't always follow. 

Spring Prelude

 

Fine rain fell as I walked through Butchart Gardens with a friend this morning. Signs of spring are popping out everywhere. Witch Hazel has such unique flowers, like wild morning hair sticking out in every direction. 

In one of the restaurant venues, before the hordes of tourists arrive in late spring and summer, there is more than a hint of spring. Walking in the door we are greeted with warm air scented with the freshness of spring. Here are azaleas in bloom.

A bright Tulip Magnolia bursts with colour, adding cheer to a dull day. Mixed among the spring bulbs and flowering trees are paths with tropical plants - orchids, anthuriums, and even a tiny pineapple.

Throughout the indoor garden there is the sound of water - small waterfalls pour into ponds dotted with koi, large pots burble with water that fills then slides down the outside - a lovely backdrop. 

I recently found an slim, hardcover Mary Stewart book in a used bookstore. Going through the front pages I recognized several titles in the list of books authored by Stewart, but I couldn't tell you the plots of the stories, for I read them many years ago, probably as a teenager. Then I was all about the action and the romance. I brought The Stormy Petrel home and have just finished it. What a lovely story set on an island off the west coast of Scotland. The descriptions of scenery and bird life are exquisite, and there is just enough action to keep the story moving. I closed the book with a deep sigh of satisfaction. 

Here is one quotation I'll leave with you - "...the sound of birds and sea adds up to silence as beautifully as we ever know it in the noisy world of today..." 

In all the turmoil and noise of today's world, taking time to be silent and listen to nature, or to the quiet of home can still and calm us and help us focus on living and doing our everyday tasks knowing that of these moments our lives are composed.