A Kitchen Tree For Christmas

Our kitchen tree basking in the morning light of winter

Photo: Chronica Domus

Like many of you, I eagerly anticipate the annual ritual and excitement that revolves around decorating the Christmas tree.  It is one of the highlights of the season in our household.  Each year I seek inspiration from not only the room in which it is to be placed, but also from the existing colors and objects within that room.  Once a spark of inspiration is aglow in my mind's eye, I never quite know where it might take me.  If you've read my previous post, you will know that I have already decorated our well-loved goose feather tree, also seen here and here.

I have missed decorating an actual evergreen tree these past two Christmases as my family and I have been far from home for the holidays.  This year, however, I was determined to return to tradition, albeit a tradition with a slight twist.  You see, not only is our tree the smallest we have decorated in recent times, but it has also been placed in the kitchen, a first for us.  And, why not?  After all we do find ourselves spending much time in the kitchen either cooking, drinking our morning coffee, or dining casually at the old pine table.  Why shouldn't we enhance the space with a little festive flourish?

My daughter Patience and I began our decorating endeavors by studding navel oranges with fragrant cloves to make pomanders.  I remember making these with my own mother and only wish we had then discovered the benefits of a simple bamboo skewer to hasten our workload.

 A bamboo skewer is a most helpful tool when studding a bowlful of oranges with cloves

Photo: Chronica Domus

Patience and I set the pomanders upon the shelves of the hanging plate rack, nestled among clippings of fresh spruce and pine.  Ah, it's beginning to smell a lot like Christmas!

As we greatly enjoy snacking on citrus fruits during the winter months, our kitchen is never without a bowl brimming with brightly hued mandarin oranges.

An enormous English ironstone bowl filled with the season's best fruits, juicy mandarin oranges

Photo: Chronica Domus

With so much orange dotted about the kitchen, surely the tree must get in on the act too.  Rounding up all the vintage glass ornaments I could find in assorted fruit, nut, berry, and basket shapes, a tree befitting our working kitchen rapidly took form.

Amber, orange, green, and silver were the predominant colors of this year's Christmas tree
Photo: Chronica Domus

By adhering to a color scheme of amber, orange, green, and silver, the finished tree reflects the colors of the nearby citrus fruit and its foliage.  I added silver to pick up on the polished nickel hardware on the bank of drawers, upon which our diminutive tree rests.

Pine cones are a particularly loved ornament shape I enjoy collecting, and this petite orange example is a color not often found among them

Photo: Chronica Domus 

A green glass snoozing cat in a slipper marks the occasion of Norton's first Christmas
Photo: Chronica Domus

I crowned our pint-sized kitchen tree with a festive vintage orange and white striped ribbon reminiscent of those hard candy ribbons one sees for sale around Christmastime.  This one, of course, is calorie free.

One of the reasons I was drawn to this particular evergreen tree was because of its log stand which the nurseryman thoughtfully and, I believe, so stylishly provided. Woodsy and appropriate for such a little sapling, it reminds me of those decadent chocolate yule logs my mother reliably sourced from our local baker each December.

A tree stand reminiscent of a chocolate yule log, perfect for a tree befitting the kitchen

Photo: Chronica Domus

A surprise awaits those curious enough to cast their eyes upon the log stand.  If you look very carefully, you shall spy an elusive woodland creature at rest:

An old mercury glass deer reclines atop it's woodland resting spot

Photo: Chronica Domus

Surrounded by freshly clipped greenery, and placed upon one of our everyday porcelain kitchen platters, I think this year's Christmas kitchen tree looks particularly festive.  It certainly helps brighten up an otherwise utilitarian space.  Now, why have I not thought of putting up a tree in the kitchen before I wonder?

Photo: Chronica Domus

Even the old Douglas fir floorboards of our kitchen coordinate with the orange tones of our tree

Photo: Chronica Domus

One final touch remains.  No Christmas tree is worth its salt without at least one present beneath it. This year, I am placing a special surprise for Patience in this charming flocked yule log candy container.  The container itself was handmade in France and sold at one of San Francisco's little hidden treasures, Bellocchio.  I was lucky enough to have purchased several such whimsical containers over the years from this beguiling establishment.  Sadly, the artisan that supplied them to Bellocchio has closed their small atelier upon retirement. In a world swamped with mass-produced tat and frippery, it grieves me to know that this annonymous artist's skills have been lost to the passage of time.  It also makes me cherish my whimsical little candy boxes just a bit more for of it.

Shhh... can you keep a secret?  A Christmas surprise awaits Patience, hidden within this whimsical yule log candy container

Photo: Chronica Domus

Norton proved himself of little help when it came to the decoration of our kitchen tree preferring instead to frolic in a wicker basket 

Photo: Chronica Domus

Now that our decorations are in place, it is time to relax and enjoy the upcoming festivities with family and friends. We've awakened to the sight of shimmering frost upon lawns and neighboring rooftops these past several mornings.  It's finally feeling like a proper winter around here.  

I wish you all a relaxing and peaceful holiday season and a healthy dose of good cheer to tide you over into the coming year.

Merry Christmas one and all!

CD

A Christmas Tree In Celebration of Our Silver Wedding Anniversary

Photo: Chronica Domus

Earlier this year, my darling husband and I celebrated the momentous and joyous occasion of our silver wedding anniversary, marking twenty-five years of wedlock.  We met when I first visited San Francisco as a tourist on the penultimate day of  my holiday away from London.  It was the autumn of 1990.  I like to tell people that I met my husband on my way to jail.  You see, we met on the ferry boat that transports passengers to Alcatraz, the famous prison built on an island in the middle of the San Francisco Bay. The boat ride across the water was a short one, but it was one that changed my life for the better.

In keeping with matrimonial tradition, all things silver have been at the forefront of my mind this year, including the decoration of our ivory-colored goose feather tree.  I thought it would be a fun and fitting tribute to decorate it with my collection of vintage silver and ivory hued glass ornaments.

Photo: Chronica Domus

It was fun to rummage through my ornament boxes searching for just the right examples to hang upon the feathery boughs.  I sort my ornaments by color, allotting a box or two to each hue.  I also take the additional measure of individually wrapping each fragile bauble in tissue paper.  One hopes that by doing so it will help to keep them intact. As I sat on the floor amid the hilly mounds of crumpled tissue paper, intently focused on the task at hand, my husband happened to walk by.  "That looks like quite a challenge" he announced.  Turning to walk away, I detected a familiar look on his face.  It was a look that clearly indicated he thought me just slightly on the wrong side of sanity. Admittedly, he may very well be right when it comes to such matters as the preservation of my cherished ornaments.  By the way, despite my best efforts, I inevitably manage to shatter at least one precious orb while decorating the tree.  This year was no different.

Pressing on, I challenged myself to find just the right ornaments in the form of traditional symbols of marriage. All in all, I think I did rather well.

Firstly, there was the matter of the wedding bells to announce the joyous occasion of a happy marriage.  What  silver wedding anniversary tree would be complete without them?

Photo: Chronica Domus

Photo: Chronica Domus

Of course, even before those wedding bells were ringing, Cupid had already paid us a visit.

Cupid's calling card in the form of a stylized bow and arrow, or is this more akin to the anchor on the Alcatraz ferry boat we met upon?

Photo: Chronica Domus

The following photograph shows a particularly felicitous ornament which is a new favorite of mine, having recently unearthed it at an antiques shop.  It was manufactured in the early decades of the twentieth century and I believe it to be German.  It still has its original colored glass clapper intact.

Combining two symbols of a happy marriage, this charming blown glass bell ornament is a perfect addition to the silver wedding anniversary tree

Photo: Chronica Domus

The bell-shaped ornament is especially appropriate to hang on our themed tree as it is decorated beautifully with a lone sprig of Lily of the valley. In the language of flowers, this botanical emblem symbolizes purity and happiness and is a popular bloom to include in bridal bouquets.  Lily of the valley is also the birth month flower for May, the month in which my husband was born and the month in which we wed.

No loved-up tree would be complete without a couple of lovebirds perched upon its boughs.  I found four of these silver tweeters to clip upon the tree.

Photo: Chronica Domus

I just adore this fun ornament, symbolizing the barrels of fun we've shared throughout our evolving marriage.  Incidentally, there has been lots of wine to accompany it too!

Photo: Chronica Domus

Oh, I almost forgot the strings of silver beads, perhaps representing the ropes that bind us together, arched gently across the branches.

By now you might be thinking to yourself this is all just a tad too corny, in which case, here's the perfect ornament for you:

A perfectly corny ornament to hang on this year's themed tree, would you not agree?

Photo: Chronica Domus

Of course, as this is a present of sorts to my Dear One, I've presented the bedecked tree to him on a Georgian sterling salver.  Wrapping the tree's base in a smart chocolate colored vintage ribbon gives it that buttoned-up look one hopes for when ready to walk down the aisle. Two smaller trees play supporting roles, much like the best man and matron of honor would at any wedding.

Presented on a Georgian sterling salver this year's Christmas tree is a special gift to my husband

Photo: Chronica Domus

If you look carefully, you will see a hint of gold in among the silver.  It is a hopeful reminder that we'll one day look forward to celebrating our next milestone wedding anniversary.  The quilted silver and gold heart perfectly conveys our ambition.  I know, I know, we are only half way there but one can still be hopeful, can't one?

A gold and silver heart ornament is an appropriate symbol to include upon our silver wedding anniversary tree

Photo: Chronica Domus

As for the tradition of including something old, borrowed, and blue on one's wedding day, I think my glittered plastic deer ornament covers that.  I've had him since childhood (it was my mother's actually),  and he has always founds his way onto our Christmas trees.  His little blue eyes and string collar cover the blue aspect of the tradition.  He's even wearing a festive bell.  I have placed him against one of the smaller bottle brush trees where he looks perfectly content, if not a bit ravaged by the decades.  It simply would not be Christmas without him.

Since writing my recent post about Babycham, I cannot help but view my cherished childhood deer ornament with fresh eyes - he looks strangely like the chamois used as the Babycham mascot, heavens!

Photo: Chronica Domus

I hope you've enjoyed viewing our silver wedding anniversary themed Christmas tree as much as I've enjoyed assembling it.

Do please come back soon and see what has become of our pocket-sized evergreen tree.

Happy anniversary, Dear One, and I wish us many more!

The Hunt For Christmas Greenery & An Introduction To Our Newest Little (Furry) Friend

Hooray, it's finally here!  The desire to begin the task of decorating the house for the Christmas festivities, that is. By mid-December when most households have already hung their wreaths, draped their garlands, and bedecked their trees with cherished ornaments, we are just getting into the spirit.

As in most years, I turn my attentions first to the front door.  This year, I set out to make a classic boxwood wreath.  Unfortunately, my efforts were at once thwarted upon my arrival last Tuesday morning to the west coast's Mecca for everything floral related, the San Francisco Flower Market. Looking high and low, I was surprised to not have unearthed a single boxwood branch among the fragrant mounds of cedar, pine, and bay laurel available for sale.  Boxwood does not grow as abundantly in our area as in some other parts of the country.  This might explain why it was such an elusive breed of foliage to source.  Either that, or someone had already hauled it all away for their own decorating efforts. I did see rather a lot of fancy florists on the prowl, loading their carts with enough wreaths and foliage to decorate half the city and still have plenty left over to trim the Bay Bridge.

Just as I was about to give up on the boxwood idea, I espied a most luxuriant fresh boxwood wreath, though formed by another's hand.  Nevertheless, I was very happy to snap it up and take it home, promptly mounting it with pride upon our front door.  Mission accomplished!  I think it looks rather pretty, don't you?

Photo: Chronica Domus

In the quest to complete my greenery shopping, I suffered yet another minor setback.  The merchant who held an appealing stock of Christmas trees of varying shape and size was closed for the day.  On a previous market excursion, I had eyed a diminutive tree which I wanted to bring home and decorate. It was still for sale, but corralled with all the others behind bars which was of little help to me. Plan B was quickly hatched and a pleasant drive down the picture-perfect rugged coast to the seller's nursery in Half Moon Bay soon followed.

I know this may not seem like everyone's cup of tea when it comes to a suitable tree for the purpose of  decorating, but I just fell head over heels for this diminutive, lopsided, thirty inch tree.  Well, it's more of a sapling really.  Its gappy layered branches are just perfect for ornament hanging.

This is an Abies Magnifica, more commonly known as a Silver Tip tree, not Charlie Brown's tree.  It is seen here resting on a bench in our basement awaiting its decorations

Photo: Chronica Domus

This year, a new little helper has appeared in the wings, ready to assist me adorn the Christmas tree. His name is Norton and, surprisingly to us, he is a cat.  I write "surprisingly'' because I would have surely lost the wager, were I to have bet that we would take a cat into our household as a family pet. Sadly, both my husband and I are allergic to cats.  Although we both recall with much fondness memories of childhood feline pets, we've always opted to adopt dogs for our furry companions throughout our marriage.  This was certainly a new experience for us.

A month or so before our beloved dog Mavro died, we came across a kitten in a storm drain close to our house.  His meowing soon alerted us to his dire situation.  The little fellow was hungry, cold, and thirsty.  Over the intervening weeks, we slowly coaxed the kitten across the road and gained his trust. One day, he decided to follow me home and has remained here ever since.

May I introduce the newest member of our family, Norton.

"Hello, Norton is my name, being petted is my game"

Photo: Chronica Domus

Why Norton, I hear you ask?  Well, my husband and daughter named the kitten after the character Ed Norton of the American 1950's television sitcom The Honeymooners.  Ed famously worked in the sewers of New York, and as Norton the cat began life in a storm drain, they thought the name rather fitting.

Ed Norton as played by Art Carney 

Source: Pinterest

My daughter Patience is besotted with our new little charge and over the moon that her wildest wish has, at long last, been fulfilled. Patience has expressed her desire for a pet cat for as long as I can remember.  We are all still adjusting to life with a sneeze-inducing, formerly feral animal in our midst, but Norton shows us great affection and is more than happy to take up residence within our ranks.  We are, on the whole, very pleased to have him.

Now, please excuse me as I'm off to find the tissue box.

A Rather Questionable British Children's Christmas Tipple

A print ad from 1959

Source

Most adults, if asked, can wax lyrical about their own idealized childhood Christmases.  I am happy to report that I am one of them.  However, I recently discovered why my own earliest Christmas merriment might very well have been just a wee bit merrier than most.

We spent Christmas last, in celebration with my family in London.  We gathered together at my sister and brother-in-law's house where a delicious and memorable traditional English Christmas day dinner had been generously provided. One of the drinks on offer brought forth memories of my own childhood Christmases. "Ah" I said to my American husband, "now that's something I've not tasted since I was a little girl".  I was overjoyed to spot a bottle of Babycham, a libation my parents filled our glasses with each Christmas so we children could join in on the merry toast making.  Apparently, there was somewhat of a revival going on and Babycham was back from near extinction with a successful promotional relaunch of this once-popular British libation.

Back in the days when this gentle authoress was but a mere child, the grownups enjoyed their wines, sherries, and port on Christmas day.  My sisters and I happily quaffed our once-a-year Babycham treat with gusto.  We found it hard to resist the sweet and sparkly effervescent qualities of the festive bubble-infused tipple. As a rule, we rarely drank fizzy sodas so this was a particularly special treat. All the more so, as I think about it, because it was poured directly from diminutive-scaled bottles no taller than about six inches, just the right fit for little hands to grasp. How very thoughtful of the brewer, indeed. Not only that, but a most adorable little fellow gazed back at us from each and every bottle:

Babycham's sprightly chamois became a familiar Christmas image in our household and could easily rival any Disney character for cuteness

Source

My husband, not having any previous experience with this British drink, was curious to sample it. Taking the bottle to hand and quickly scanning the label he said "Do you know, there's as much alcohol in this stuff AS-A-BEER!"  

Just then, not only did my sisters and I look rather perplexed, but so did both of my brothers-in-law. You see, it turns out that it was not just my own parents who were under the misapprehension that Babycham was the children's equivalent of champagne, a drink usually associated with special occasion toast making, but so had my brothers-in-law's parents.  Indeed, the only reason Babycham had been included in the selection of drinks at our Christmas feast was that it was purchased for my sisters' young children to sip upon.  

As you can imagine, it didn't take long for us all to be in fits of laughter over this rather startling revelation.  Could it really be true that a generation of parents had been plying their children with alcohol?  Is it any wonder we all recall our magical sixties-era childhood Christmases (and New Year's Eve celebrations for that matter) with such fond memories? Suddenly, the term 'Swinging Sixties' takes on an altogether different meaning. 

As I suspected, my parents were not the only ones juicing up their children on Christmas day during the nineteen-sixties - I found this image on Pinterest filed under the label "Babycham my childhood drink"

Source

Turning to my parents for enlightenment, they explained they never once thought to read the label, what with that charming little Bambiesque figure prancing about on the packaging, and with the name BABYcham.  Surely, they said, the ad man must have been targeting their marketing efforts towards parents.  In researching this post, I discovered that Babycham, essentially a pear cider, was in fact marketed to women.  Naturally, as women tended to be the main grocery shoppers for the household, they might have caught sight of that adorable prancing mascot and thought to themselves, "now there's a sweet little drink suitable for Junior".  Into the grocery basket it went.

Another thing that raised my eyebrows when researching this post was the tag line that appears on the cardboard four-pack sleeve of this nostalgic tipple.  Those ad men were not far off the mark when they printed 'The Happiest Drink In The World' on their product.  It certainly made for some very happy childhood Christmases, I can tell you!

December's Antiques Faire Loot

Photo: Chronica Domus

I know, I know, it's a tad too soon to be thinking about Christmas so early in December but when one happens across a basketful of fragile vintage glass ornaments, one must act rather sharpish, which is exactly what my good friend Jeanette and I did today at the monthly Alameda Antiques Faire.  Funny thing is, we dithered around not fully committed to attending the faire this month, what with our schedules being so full.  We almost stayed home.  What a shame that would have been.  You see, not only did we brave the crowds and have a marvelous time chitchatting and catching up on our week's news, but we both managed to haul home some serious loot.

Many of the dealers had saved up their year's worth of finds to sell at the market today, and luckily for us, many of them were selling vintage Christmas ornaments.  I snapped up several in fading shades of green, silver, and gold, and in varying shapes that I was more than happy to add to my burgeoning collection.  One of those ornaments was a gold German kugel, much like the ones I photographed for this post a few years ago.

Photo: Chronica Domus

"Oh no, I'm done" was the running joke between Jeanette and me throughout the day in response to one of us asking the other "Are you going to buy that ornament?"  You see, we have a shared obsession for these beguilling tree ornaments and each year we swear that we "are done" with our collections. We have to remind each other that we shall never quite be "done" because each year the inevitable happens and we both suffer losses at our clumsy hands when the time comes to decorate our trees.

Lady Luck had carried me successfully through the day with my haul, but just as Jeanette and I were walking towards the car, I spotted this gilded Paris Porcelain reticulated basket for a song.  How fortuitous, I thought, my new old ornaments can be safely and beautifully squirreled away in the basket for their safe passage home.

Photo: Chronica Domus

And, just when I thought our visit had come to an end, I was stopped in my tracks by this coin silver spoon.  It measures just four and a half inches long, and was crafted by the New York based silversmith Jared L. Moore, circa 1830.  The spoon is inscribed with the monogram, H E W.

Photo: Chronica Domus

I have long admired the wheatsheaf design on old silver and could not resist this diminutive spoon which will be a joy to use for anything other than its intended purpose, salt.  I am a firm believer in repurposing antiques so that they once again become useful and beautiful objects in one's life.  I have written posts about this philosophy in the past, so you won't be surprised to learn that this particular utensil will be serving up dollops of mustard in its new life.

I hope you've enjoyed sharing in my excitement at my new finds.  I must say that all this talk of vintage ornaments has prompted me into considering how I am going to decorate this year's Christmas tree.  Ah, well, there's still plenty of time left.  Twenty-one days to be exact.