Man's (and Woman's) Best Friend

My beloved and sorely missed Kylo, caught mid-yawn

Photo: Chronica Domus

Today is National Dog Day, a day to reflect upon man's (and woman's) best friend. What is it about our furry companions that endear them to us forever? Is it the fact that they remain loyal to the every end, offering their fortunate humans a brand of unconditional love rarely to be found elsewhere in the animal kingdom?  Is it their endless tail wagging and silly animated faces, or those unexpected lightening fast face licks we adore so much?  Could it be we've fallen hard for those sad puppy-eyed stares they have mastered so very, very well while begging for table scraps or an extra treat?

Whatever it is that makes us go all goo-goo eyed over our faithful canine companions, take a moment to celebrate our best friends.  Lavish them with extra hugs, treats, and walks throughout the day.  I plan on doing exactly that for my beloved Mavro.

Puppy Love - A first glimpse of Mavro at the adoption center as he awaits his new home twelve years ago

Photo: Chronica Domus

Tell me, do you (or did you) have a dog that has worked its way into your heart?

382: A Slop Bowl Revelation

Photo: Chronica Domus

One of the most fulfilling aspects of writing Chronica Domus is the interaction I share with you, my readership, through the comments section. I enjoy the stories you share, the wit, repartee, and the nuggets of knowledge you collectively pass along.  I always learn something new, thank you.

Occasionally I receive emails too.  One morning last week, while enjoying my early morning cuppa, a most interesting email from a reader in the United Kingdom landed in my message box. Fiona, a keen collector of Spode ceramics, wrote to tell me that she had read my post on slop bowls, found here, and wanted to share some information on the bowl which I had described as a particular favorite of mine.  It is pictured in the photograph above.

Fiona kindly informed me that I had erroneously written that the bowl had been decorated using a process known as bat printing.  She went on to explain that the monochrome pastoral scenes had in fact been accomplished by hand painting. Furthermore, Fiona was able to pinpoint the exact year of manufacture, 1803, which was two years earlier than my best guess. I was gobsmacked. How, I wondered, had she known all this?  I had long assumed that these early pieces were exclusively decorated through the bat printed method.

Fiona's extensive knowledge of early Spode led her to believe my bowl had a pattern number associated with the decoration, 382.  Champing at the bit in anticipation of validating Fiona's hunch, I toddled over to my slop bowl, which currently resides atop the drawing room's secretary bookcase.  I took a quick gander at its base, and there they were.  Three little numbers, 382.  Fiona was indeed correct. 

Photo: Chronica Domus

No doubt about it now, this bowl had been hand painted and not bat printed as I had mistakenly assumed

Photo: Chronica Domus

Suddenly, I was staring at what I had previously thought to have been printed scenes with fresh perspective and slightly wider eyes. The little vignettes were very obviously painted by a skilled artist upon closer examination, something I would have missed entirely were it not for Fiona's astute observations. No wonder this particular slop bowl appealed so strongly!  It has long become a most cherished bowl, particularly because of its handsome decoration.  Knowing it was hand painted has only increased its charm and appeal.  I adore it.

Ever the dipso that I am for knowledge, and having had my curiosity aroused by Fiona, my thoughts turned next to the various cups and saucers I own bearing similar vignettes to the slop bowl.  Had I been wrong about those pieces too? Were they also hand painted? Individually painted ceramics represented a far more costly method of decoration than bat printing, and certainly more time consuming to be sure.  I could not wait to investigate.

A quick fumble through my groaning cupboards produced several examples, each baring varied bucolic landscape scenes.  At first glance, my untrained eye was not able to detect any perceptible difference in decoration. Pattern marks on the undersides of the cups and saucers were lacking, which was of no help to me. Apparently, only the larger, more expensive items were marked at the factory during the company's early days. Having lingered over the individual pieces for a few moments longer, I was finally convinced that there had indeed been more than one method employed in decorating these handsome ceramics. Here is what I found.

A Spode bat printed cup and saucer

Photo: Chronica Domus

...and 

A Spode hand painted cup and saucer

Photo: Chronica Domus

Now, as many of you might have already detected, details excite me. I relish them, in fact. Bearing this in mind, you'll quite understand the level of excitement that Fiona's revelation had sparked within me. I was now looking at my early Spode wares with new found interest and fascination.

The first cup and saucer set appeared more silvery grey in tone and less detailed than the second.  The scenes are more dotty in appearance when viewed from close proximity.  The second cup and saucer set achieves its look through a denser form of decoration.  One can clearly identify it is hand painted when studying the delicate and painstakingly detailed brush strokes that went into painting the foliage of the trees. The color appears to veer towards a charcoal grey when compared to the first cup and saucer.

Consulting my well-thumbed copy of  Mr. Godden's An Illustrated Encyclopaedia of British Pottery and Porcelain, I discover an illustration straight from Spode's pattern book of the hand painted Pattern 382.

Pattern 382 lifted directly from Spode's factory pattern book appears in Mr. Godden's tome identifying the decoration as having been hand painted

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Fiona's email further states that the hand painted pieces were a fore-runner to the bat printed wares, which is how she was able to accurately date my slop bowl to 1803. Hand painting was performed for only about a year before bat printing was introduced.

Pieces of Pattern 382 as shown on Page 300 of Mr. Godden's tome confirming my slop bowl was indeed decorated by hand

Photo: Chronica Domus

On the opposite page, Mr. Godden showcases similar tea wares decorated using bat prints.

Ah, there they are, my bat printed cups and saucers

Photo: Chronica Domus

I cannot thank the knowledgeable Fiona enough for her email and my ensuing enlightenment regarding these attractive ceramics.  They bring me abundant joy with their use. What is the point of owning such pretty little things if they are solely to be admired from afar?  I believe it is always much more pleasurable, and fun, to put these objects to good service. Besides, I cannot express enough how delicious tea tastes while being sipped from thin-walled bone china cups.

Fiona, my untrained eye has forever been honed, and for that I am most eternally grateful to you. Thank you.

Do any of you own a treasure that brought you much joy only to be further enhanced by the discovery of its provenance or manufacture?  Do please tell me about it.

What's Blooming Inside: The Sweetest of Sweet Peas

The season's first mixed sweet pea posy held in a black basalt vessel

Photo: Chronica Domus

What would summer be without a vase spilling over with old-fashioned sweet peas to excite the nostrils and delight the eye?  Surely, their intoxicating scent and billowy beauty set them among the most exquisite of flowers to be enjoyed and celebrated annually.  They come in a range of colors, spanning a palette of creams and bright whites, delicate sorbets and pastels, fiery oranges, crimson, and the deepest, darkest royal purple. I am certain there is a color to appeal to everyone's sensibilities.

My 1929 second edition copy of Charles W.J. Unwin's tome on the cultivation of sweet peas

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I have cultivated sweet peas or rather Lathyrus odoratus, their botanical name, for the past twenty years.  I was inspired to try my hand at growing them, much like the daffodils I wrote about, upon visiting the Welsh book town of Hay-on-Wye.  It was there that I stumbled across an intriguing book titled "Sweet Peas Their History, Development, Culture".  The book was authored by Charles W.J. Unwin.  If the name Unwin rings a bell of familiarity it is because Mr. Unwin's father William founded the British seed company Unwins in 1903. Charles Unwin went on to become one of the preeminent breeders of sweet peas of his time.

The first thing that greets the delighted reader of this book is a colored plate illustrating three very showy varieties of the flower.  The plate is protected by a sheet of glassine where each flower is identified; Queen of Roumania (a curious spelling of the country to be sure), Sybil Henshaw, and Wistaria (yet again, another peculiar spelling of he popular flower wisteria).

A colored plate illustrating some very fancy sweet peas

Photo: Chronica Domus

A glassine sheet not only aids in protecting the colored plate, it also helps to identify the three sweet pea varieties illustrated

Photo: Chronica Domus

Reading the preface of the book, and the author's infectious enthusiasm for the cultivation and appreciation of this old-fashioned garden flower, had me rushing out the door to purchase my first pack of seeds.  Sadly, I  cannot recall what particular type of sweet pea I grew back then.  I don't think I was particularly bothered about either the color or the fact that it was an older variety. I have since developed quite a fancy for the heritage strains, which are simpler in form and far more perfumed than their modern cousins.  This is not to say that I turn my nose up at the newer sweet peas.  No, certainly not!  In fact, some of my favorites are the newer hybrids, at least the ones that have managed to retain some semblance of scent.

Back in March, I wrote about my visit to the Seed Bank, in Petaluma.  It was there that I purchased some of this year's seeds for planting; Lathyrus odoratus Cupani Original, which is believed to be the very first sweet pea, known since in 1699, and the rare Lathyrus Belinensis, discovered in Turkey in 1987 and on the critically threatened plant list.  To these I added April In Paris and Regal Robe, two newer hybrids with all the charm and scent of the oldies.  Lathyrus latifolius is not a true sweet pea, but it is a heritage variety, said to have been grown by Thomas Jefferson, and unusually a perennial.

Sweet pea seeds soaking overnight in the potting area in preparation for sowing

Photo: Chronica Domus

The first seeds went into the well-prepared warm soil on May 9 which, I'll admit, is very late.  I much prefer to have everything wrapped up by late March, around St. Patrick's Day, giving the seeds an opportunity to develop strong roots before the weather really heats up.  I waited patiently for the first signs of germination with all of the excitement that comes along with seeing those little green sprouts emerging from the earth.  Having crossed that bridge, I lovingly fussed over the sweet pea patch for the next ten weeks, snipping away at the curly tendrils that rob the plants of energy, and looking for the first flowers to emerge.

It was not until the end of July that I was richly rewarded for my efforts.  I was thrilled to see the bi-colored Cupani Original emerge in all it's beauty.  

The first sweet pea of the year, Lathyrus odoratus Cupani Original

Photo: Chronica Domus

Then came Regal Robe, living up to its name with its rich royal purple tones.

A close-up view of Lathyrus odoratus Regal Robe 

Photo: Chronica Domus

April In Paris seemed to have sprinted from nowhere, stretching into the warm sun and beguilingly teasing with not only its delicate lilac-hued edges, but also its agreeable scent. It is the most fragrant modern sweet pea I have yet to grow.  Many modern types have had their fragrance obliterated through hybridizing which, in my not so humble opinion, make them far less appealing to grow. The scent of April In Paris rivals that of Cupani Original in both strength and sweetness. It is utterly breathtaking!  Why, I wonder, has no perfumier managed to replicate such a delicious aroma and bottle it for the enjoyment of women (and men, I suppose) the world over?

Lathyrus odoratus April In Paris exhibiting its subtle lilac-hued edge

Photo: Chronica Domus

The diminutive and scarce Lathyrus Belinensis just coming into bloom

Photo: Chronica Domus

Pearly pink blooms of Lathyrus latifolius, an heirloom perennial lacking in scent

Photo: Chronica Domus

The wonderful thing about sweet peas is that the more flowers you cut, the more flowers emerge. Indeed, it really is a bad idea to leave them lingering on their leggy vines for too long as the flowers quickly go to seed.  When that happens, the plants rapidly cease producing their alluring blooms.

Regal Robe happily growing in the sweet pea patch and ready for cutting in late July.  I love the developing colors on the unopened flower heads 

Photo: Chronica Domus

Snip, snip, snip for more, more, more

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Upon entering the house, I was compelled to capture the singular beauty of each variety for posterity and proceeded to photograph the blooms from close proximity for your viewing pleasure.

The bi-colored diminutive blooms of Cupani Original

Photo: Chronica Domus

A study of April In Paris

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Lathyrus latifolius, said to have been grown by Thomas Jefferson at Monticello

Photo: Chronica Domus

The lilliputian Lathyrus Belinensis is so tiny I had to employ tweezers to aid me in capturing its unusual coloration and form - this was the first Belinensis to have bloomed in my garden and its stem was far shorter than the others that followed

Photo: Chronica Domus 

Of course, the greatest pleasure I derive from growing sweet peas is the prospect of gathering them up and filling containers with them to place about the house.  I have been doing just that over the last several weeks to my great enjoyment and satisfaction.  Sweet peas are nature's air fresheners and whenever one is so fortunate to enter the vicinity of a sweet pea arrangement, one's nose is in for a very sweet treat.

A small posy on the drawing room mantelshelf...

Photo: Chronica Domus

...and in front of the sofa

Photo: Chronica Domus

A late-eighteenth century glass vessel holds a diminutive arrangement of Lathyrus Belinensis on the dining room side table

Photo: Chronica Domus

If you too have been inspired to try your hand at growing these deliciously demure and elegant summer dazzlers, I urge you to seek out a pack or two in your favorite colors and plan on sowing them next spring.  Sweet pea cultivation is not reserved solely for those with gardens.  There are many varieties that thrive in outdoor containers and grow in bush form.

Now, if you'll please excuse me, I'm off to the garden to pick today's bundle of sweetness.

This morning's pickings enliven a corner of my kitchen

Photo: Chronica Domus

 Nota bene: I am neither paid nor do I receive recompense in exchange for applauding products or services within my blog.  I do so because I enjoy them.  If you are a kindred spirit, you too enjoy recommending nice things to fellow good eggs.

My Month In Review

Nota bene: No animals were harmed in the making of this post.  The goldfish, once photographed for the purpose of this blog, was swiftly returned to its regular living quarters, alongside his fishy friends, which provides slightly more space than the little 19th century fish (or would that be leech?) bowl.

It has been an absolute age since I last updated Chronica Domus, but I return today, after a most leisured and pleasured month of rest and relaxation.  Recharging one's batteries was in order and that meant unplugging from the electronic world and enjoying the pleasures that come along with the slower pace of summer living.  As I reflect on the month that was, it really turned out to be not as slow as I had imagined. It was, nonetheless, supremely and deliciously enjoyable.

I busied myself in the garden, attending to the vegetables and flowers that went a little mad basking in July's warmer temperatures. Posts on my harvests will be forthcoming so please do come back soon to read about my gardening endeavors.

I received plenty of help taming the rampant lettuces and arugula from this little fellow that came to stay with us for the month.

"Hello, my name is Torty. I enjoy nothing better than a fresh patch of peppery arugula to munch upon"

Photo: Chronica Domus

Torty was perfectly content to take her meals al fresco in the vegetable garden, dining on fresh arugula, lettuces, nasturtium leaves, and flowers.  She also developed quite a fancy for the first of the early apples that have already fallen from the branches of the Frankentrees.  Tortoises are at once peculiar and fascinating creatures to observe. They eat with a high degree of precision, chomping through plant matter with alacrity, aided by their powerful beak-like mouths. They also wander around at a faster pace than might be expected, covering much ground with their stumpy little legs.

"I knew that bolted lettuce would taste delish!"

Photo: Chronica Domus

It has been quite the zoo around here as Torty was accompanied to her summer vacation home by her six room mates, the goldfish.

Photo: Chronica Domus

In addition to providing the care required of our new summer menagerie, we have been busy attending to a stream of house guests, the last of which departed yesterday. We ate wonderful home cooked meals together, visited restaurants new and old, enjoyed much laughter along with copious amounts of seemingly non-stop and dizzying banter. If it wasn't all so exciting and fun, it would be exhausting.

We also traveled across the Bay Area enjoying natural sights such as this...

This is the view looking directly overhead into a canopy of lofty and majestic Sequoia Redwood trees in Muir Woods -  it is enough to make one's head spin

Photo: Chronica Domus

... and dramatic coastline views like these...

The rugged coastline by Sutro Baths in San Francisco

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Late afternoon shadows along Monterey Bay

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There have been lots of other not so natural but uproariously fun things too, such as the old-fashioned seaside attractions in Santa Cruz.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Photo: Chronica Domus

I also spent time in the auction room, causing damage to my bank account in the process and, far less bruising, at the monthly Alameda Point Antiques Faire. Again, I plan on writing posts on these in the very near future.

I had every intention of taking these home, until I attended the auction preview and realized how positively cartoonish this pair of  marble Roman feet in sandals looked in real life - their footprint spanned fifteen inches in length, far too large for the area I had planned on placing them, to say nothing of their cumbersome weight

Photo: Chronica Domus

All in all, it has been a very busy and enjoyable month to be sure, but all good things must come pleasantly to an end especially when the rhythm of regular life beckons.

Tell me, how have you been spending your time this summer?