What's Blooming Inside: Summer's Last Hurrah

Photo: Chronica Domus

We may have entered the first days of autumn here in the Northern Hemisphere, but try telling that to my garden.  Do you remember the sweet peas about which I wrote in early August, and the surprise I received when only blossoms of a sugared almond pink color appeared from the assorted heirloom seed packet I planted? Well, this is what the sweet pea patch yielded yesterday morning:

A nineteenth century black basalt vessel sets off the exultant colors of
autumnal sweet peas to perfection
Photo: Chronica Domus

At long last, the other colors depicted so prettily on the seed packet's charming illustration - which enticed me into buying it in the first place - have emerged.  Late, I'll admit, but they made it through. Thinking back, I don't believe I have ever had the pleasure of picking sweet peas so very late in the year.

Even the glass bathroom shelf gets in on the act with a mixed rosy-hued posy composed of the last sugared almond pink sweet peas that have been in bloom throughout the summer

Photo: Chronica Domus

I think it is simply marvelous that the emergence of these jewel-toned flowers have such impeccable timing.  What could be more appropriate, as we approach the cooler months of the year, than to be greeted by the sight of vivid regal purples and crimson pinks in one's vases?  As everything around the garden fades to gold, these rich and exuberant colors reign supreme.  It's summer's last hurrah.

Photo: Chronica Domus

For those of my readers that have never planted sweet peas, let me share a secret with you.  The more one harvests these irresistible blooms, the more seem to emerge.  Each plant is a veritable factory of flowers begging to be culled every few days.  If I'm fortunate, I'll be picking sweet peas well into October this year.

Have you noticed the subtle signs of autumn arriving in your neighborhood yet or is summer refusing to surrender?

My Problem with "no problem"

I'll get straight to the point.  There is a certain expression that simply grates on my nerves each and every time I hear it.  Sadly, I've been hearing it a lot lately.  I'm not sure if this is because I live in San Francisco where most things have become "hipster cool" and a little too laid-back-casual for the likes of my fuddy-duddy self.  Perhaps people are simply becoming lazier with their language?

As you might have guessed from the title of this post, I have a problem with "no problem".  What I mean by this is that when I thank someone for their service at a retail establishment or restaurant, the response I'm likely to receive - at least around these parts - is the grating and unfortunate "no problem" instead of the correct "you're welcome".  This sends ire and fire through my veins.

I often find myself on the cusp of correcting the linguistic miscreant who just volleyed their "no problem" my way.  Alas, I've yet to actually do so. Ultimately, I remember my good manners and just move along.  Perhaps this blog post may be my only outlet for tackling the dismal "no problem" problem.

"Thank's for the coffees, ma'am"

"No problem You're welcome boys"

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What I'd really like to say is something like this, "No, my patronage is indeed not a problem so please refrain from implying that it may have been.  I am, in fact, a paying customer who appreciates the assistance you've just provided, which is why I've thanked you in the first place. No absolution required".

Which brings me to yet another unfortunate use of the English language. Is anyone else tired of hearing the word "guest" instead of "customer" when out and about doing their shopping? If I'm your guest, should you not be treating me as such by sending me home with my basket of shopping gratis? I certainly don't expect guests under my own roof to pay for anything.  Please, call me what I am, a paying customer.

In a country where there is seemingly so much emphasis on customer service ("did you find everything you were looking for?", "have a nice day!"), business owners would be wise to train their employees to respond with "you're welcome" whenever a customer expresses their gratitude and appreciation.

Ordering food at restaurants has become a minefield of "no problems".  "May I have a glass of water" or "could I substitute ..." is often met with "no problem" instead of "yes",  "certainly", or just plain "no".

Please, do tell me, whatever happened to "you're welcome" or indeed the scarcely uttered "my pleasure" which I recall hearing from certain individuals in my youth and, astonishingly, more recently from a waiter to my great delight?  Is the "no problem" problem endemic to casual Californians, or do you too hear this infuriating expression in your neck of the woods?

Beachcombing on Playa Las Viudas

Treasured souvenirs from the playa, resting upon an 1837 hand-colored engraving of

seashells drawn by Captain Brown and engraved by G. Cranston, from my personal collection

Photo: Chronica Domus

I've been fortunate enough to visit a fair number of beaches in my life.  My parents enjoyed traveling extensively when my sisters and I were children and our summer holidays would always include stints by the seaside.  The fine sandy beaches of the Aegean and Mediterranean became our summer playgrounds.  We spent many happy hours splashing about in the warm currents, a novelty as compared to the frigid waters of the English Channel.

Being a curious child, I always made a point of scouring the beach for interesting objects. Unearthing the odd dropped coin or fragment of polished colored glass was always an exciting prospect. However, my favorite objects always remained the natural treasures which appealed so greatly to my sense of delight, and fascination with natural history.  You may be amused to learn that this gentle author secretly harbored dreams of becoming the next Mary Anning.

An inspiring figure from my youth, Mary Anning and Tray her faithful canine companion, depicted with Dorset's Golden Cap outcrop as a fitting backdrop

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It turns out that my love of beachcombing remains strong to this day.  While holidaying in Mexico recently, I took the opportunity of indulging in this pleasant pastime on one of the most secluded little beaches I have ever visited.

A view of Playa Las Viudas with its clear waters, pristine sandy beach, and rocky outcrops - we had the place to ourselves the afternoon we visited - it was heavenly!

Photo: Chronica Domus

Playa Las Viudas is a magical hidden cove that is tucked away off the main highway along the corridor between the towns of Cabo San Lucas and San Jose del Cabo.  Volcanic rock outcrops abound and although the sand is quite coarse, I greatly enjoyed getting my feet wet as I waded along the shoreline within inches of the crashing waves.  

Photo: Chronica Domus

We spent an enjoyable hour or so absorbed in the hunt for treasure. With the sun's beating rays upon our backs, combined with the stirring sound of the Sea of Cortez, it really was quite the tonic for unwinding.

Photo: Chronica Domus



Photo: Chronica Domus

What we found was astonishing.  Remnants of sea life aplenty.

Photo: Chronica Domus

I was all agog at the variety of corals and seashells we espied with seemingly little effort.  Their colors - which ranged from brilliant orange, mauve, gray, and taupe - and their intricate shapes were utterly beguiling.

Photo: Chronica Domus

I was enchanted most especially by the little orange-speckled oval seashells.  I had never seen anything quite like it on any other beach and here I was with two in the palm of my hand (well three, actually, but the third example had faded in the strong Mexican sunlight).

 

A dorsal and ventral view of Jenneria pustulata with its distinctive colors and pattern
Photo: Chronica Domus

Of course, this led me on a hunt down the electronic rabbit hole that is The Internet until I unearthed what exactly it was that had wholly captured my imagination.  Jenneria pustulata, it turns out, was first mentioned by the English botanist and conchologist John Lightfoot in 1786. Interestingly, Mr. Lightfoot was the curator of The Duchess of Portland's personal collection which in its day, was the most extensive and coveted natural collection in England.  I also discovered that aside from Western Mexico, Jenneria pustulata is found in such exotic locales as Costa Rica, Panama, and the Galapagos Islands, all places I have yet to enjoy the privilege of visiting.

Aside from a multitude of seashells, nuggets of lily-white coral litter Playa Las Viudas.  This stony coral happens to be the main food source of Jenneria pustulata which would explain why there was such a high concentration of it on one small stretch of beach.

A trio of coral nuggets rest upon another hand-colored engraving by C. Cranston, circa 1837, from my personal collection

Photo: Chronica Domus

These very special seashells, together with the other bits of unearthed natural treasure, make charming souvenirs of a place that has captured my heart.  I shall cherish them always as fond remembrances of a pleasant afternoon spent beachcombing in a spot that must surely be as close to paradise as one can imagine.

A lone boat sails past Playa Las Viudas
Photo: Chronica Domus

Tell me, do you have fond memories of visiting a favorite beach, or have you ever found anything of interest to capture your imagination that was laying about in the sand?

The Gloomsbury Set

The extended Gloomsbury Bloomsbury Set included Lady Utterline Immoral Lady Ottoline Morrell who snapped this image of 

Lytton Scratchy Lytton Strachey and Ginny Fox Virginia Woolf in 1923

Source

Nota bene: Since publishing this post I've been honored that Sue Limb, the author of  Gloomsbury, has been in touch to say that "You and your acolytes might be pleased to know we are recording a fourth series at the end of September".  Naturally, I'm plump with pride to be able to report this world exclusive here on Chronica Domus.  

What do Vera Sackcloth-Vest, Ginny Fox, Lady Utterline Immoral, Lytton Scratchy, and Venus Traduces all have in common?  Well, you might be interested to learn that they are all characters belonging to that (extended) coterie of writers, artists, and philosophers known as The Bloomsbury Set... I mean, The Gloomsbury Set.

I am currently listening to the re-airing of BBC Radio 4's amusing literary comedy Gloomsbury, which I became aware of a few years ago when it was first broadcast across the airwaves.  I would gently encourage you to listen to it too. Sparklingly written by British comedy writer Sue Limb, Gloomsbury comes to life through the marvelous voices of the talented Miriam Margolyes, John Sessions, and Alison Steadman.  For those of my readers who are located outside of earshot of the Beeb's radio broadcasts, fear not.  You will have an opportunity over the next three weeks to tune in via The Internet.  Series 1 is currently streaming to the world so do get thee to the following web site, pronto:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b01mx2sp

The sitcom is serialized over three six-part installments, each part being thirty minutes long, and parodies the eccentric and oftentimes saucy bohemian goings on of the early twentieth century clique headed by Virginia Woolf, or Ginny Fox as she's known here.  Don't you just adore Miss Limb's punny humor in the renaming of her Gloomsbury Set?

Venus Traduces Violet Trefusis and  Vera Sackcloth-Vest Vita Sackville-West

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Gloomsbury is littered with smart little quips that make reference to the real-life characters of the Bloomsbury Set.  Take for example Vera Sackcloth-Vest's instructions to her gardener in the planting of the north border at Sizzlinghurst.  As she rattles off a list of nonsensical Italian-sounding plant names (formaggio mezzaluna anyone?), the dear fellow is prompted to ask "will that be pink or cream".  "Cream of course, man!" comes the snippy response, "I won't have pink anywhere near Sizzlinghurst".

The famous white garden at Sissinghurst Castle, created by Ms. Sackville-West, is one of England's most visited gardens

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Oh, and the production team could not have selected a more fitting piece of music for the theme song. Won't you take a listen for yourself?

"You're Driving Me Crazy" as sung by The Temperance Seven

I think Dorothy Parker described The Bloomsbury Set perfectly with her bon mot "they lived in squares, painted in circles, and loved in triangles".  If all this talk of squares and circles has piqued your interest, do please tune in for some radio high-jinks.  I'm sure you too will soon be delightfully amused, if not downright confused, by all the triangles.