The Treen Mystery Object Revealed

Did you guess the purpose of the little acorn correctly?

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Thank you all for being such good sports and participating in the fun and games of guessing the purpose of my diminutive nineteenth century ebony treen acorn which I recently acquired in England. I greatly enjoyed reading your thoughts on the mystery object's function, and how you settled upon your conclusions.

Several of you guessed that the acorn is a child's toy, much in the vein of a spinning top, and I can see why:

A nineteenth century boxwood spinning top

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Others thought that perhaps its purpose is related to spinning yarn, like the vintage wooden spindle seen below:

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A few of you reckoned that the acorn's cap is removable, which it is. The cap is indeed threaded and requires unscrewing from the acorn.  Now that we've established the acorn is hollow, we can deduce that it is designed as a receptacle.  But, a receptacle for what exactly?  Let's continue examining the other suggestions put forth.

When I published my post I fully expected at least one of my clever readers to posit the acorn to be a nutmeg grater.   I was proved correct when "columnist" threw his hat into the ring.  You can see why below:

A handsome nineteenth century treen nutmeg grater

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Georgian nutmeg graters were often fashioned in the form of an acorn, constructed of either silver or turned wood.  Although I have often fancied owning - and using - such a grater, I have yet to find just the right one to haul home.  When I do, of course, you'll be the first to know about it.  In fact, when I initially laid eyes upon the treen acorn, I too believed it to be a nutmeg grater.  Looks can be so terribly deceiving at times.

A recurring theme throughout the comments was that the acorn is a receptacle for smelling salts or snuff.  While certainly a plausible theory, considering the nineteenth century's obsession with noses, the true purpose of the acorn has yet to be revealed.  Let's keep going.

"Kindly pass the smelling salts madam, I can barely share the same air as those unshod feet!"

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For those of you that guessed "a sewing kit" or "a needle case", you came so very close!  Alas, the two inch acorn can neither accommodate the length of a needle nor nestle multiple sewing accoutrements within its hollow.

It does, however, conceal a lone related object, and here it is:

Aha! It's a thimble case

Photo: Chronica Domus

Bravo to Janet, Janie, and Jim for correctly guessing the purpose of the mystery treen object.  Please, do feel free to take a well-deserved bow.

The thimble is elegantly concealed within the hollow treen acorn

Photo: Chronica Domus

Thank you all once again for participating in what I hope has been an entertaining and enlightening post on a charming and handsome domestic object, long ago made by caring hands.  I have considered adding the thimble case to my sewing kit, but find it's beauty too captivating to squirrel away in a box that rarely sees the light of day.  Better, I think, to have it rest within a saucer that is placed upon a side table in our drawing room. That way it might just catch the eye of one of our guests and become the focus of an amusing guessing game. Would you not agree?

A Treen Mystery Object

Photo: Chronica Domus

When I lived in Kent as a young girl, our house was situated opposite an ancient oak woodland. 'The Woods', as we called it, became an almost daily playground for my sisters and me.  We spent many happy hours larking about the stately trees, enjoying spring walks gathering wood anemones and bluebells, and playing in the knee-high piles of leaves that carpeted the woodland floor later in the autumn.

I delighted in finding plump acorns that had blown onto our property from our neighbor's enormous oak tree.  I viewed these as miniature works of natural art. Often, the acorns separated from their caps and magically took hold in our garden's fertile soil.  Sadly, it was my job to remove the fragile saplings before our garden turned into a woodland of its own.

My childhood fascination and fondness for acorns is what initially attracted me to the two inch ebony treen object you see in the above photograph.  It was laying in a glass cabinet full of other nineteenth century treasures in one of the shops I visited on a recent antiques hunting expedition.

Asking the shopkeeper to unlock her cabinet so that I could take a closer look at the item, I soon discovered its purpose.  I was smitten.  Naturally, the acorn came home with me.

I do so enjoy a good guessing game and hope you do too.  Can you guess the function of my little acorn?  Remember, no cheating allowed through the use of your preferred search engine!

Some Pet Names Are Best Left For Pets

Is it just me?  Whenever I hear people in public refer to their wife, husband, boyfriend, girlfriend, or the colloquially dreadful 'significant other' as "Babe" I cannot help but think of this:

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As you may well know, today is Saint Valentine's Day, which is why I'm publishing this Public Service Announcement.  I am sure your wife, husband, boyfriend, girlfriend, or 'significant other' is many things, but surely, a pig she or he ain't!

As we are on the subject of pet names peeves, I'd also like to lump in the cloying "Honey" if I may.  Is there anything more distracting than listening to a couple rabbiting on about "Honey" this, or "Honey" that, when in conversation with others present?  OK, I'll admit that in the early days of my own relationship with my husband I caught myself going down Cupid's linguistic slippery road on more than a few occasions.  However, I quickly rectified the error of my ways vowing never to utter such babble again.  You'll be pleased to learn that I've been successful, on the whole.

In closing, I'd like to request that when out and about in public please do us all a favor and refer to your loved one by his or her given name or even by relationship title (i.e. wife, husband, boyfriend, girlfriend, or, if you really must, 'significant other').  At home, of course, you are free to do as you wish.

Tell me, have you been guilty as charged of this amorous linguistic sin, or found yourself within earshot of a "Babe", "Honey", "The Missus", "The Wifey", "The Hubby", or worse, volleyed willy-nilly in conversation?

Happy Saint Valentine's Day everyone!

Dashed Plans For A Weekend In The Snow

Last Friday my family and I set off for a long weekend in the snow.  It has been several years since we last faffed about in the powdery stuff because, frankly, the snowpack in the Sierra Nevada mountains has been dismal.  Not so this year!  The unrelenting series of rainstorms we've endured in the San Francisco Bay Area have buried the mountains north of us in much snow to the delight of west coast skiers everywhere.  It's turned into an epic winter thus far.

The following is the sort of image I had hoped to include in my post about our wintry escapades above Lake Tahoe.

I snapped this on our previous snowy car journey to Lake Tahoe

Photo: Chronica Domus

Unfortunately, this is more representative of our "weekend in the snow":

February's full moon, aptly named the 'Snow Moon', looked pretty enough but that bumper-to-bumper traffic headed into the mountains did not

Photo: Chronica Domus

I don't think we could have picked a worst time to head for the snow.  Escaping the city early on Friday afternoon was straightforward enough.  It was further upstream that things went downhill rapidly, and literally, in this case.

You see all that wonderful rain, to which I made reference in my last post, was beginning to take its toll on the soil.  The heavily saturated mountains approaching Lake Tahoe had finally given way to a mudslide.  So severe was the damage that Highway 50, upon which we happened to be traveling, was closed in both directions while we were underway.  Our long weekend getaway was dashed.

What would have ordinarily been a three hour drive to the snow turned into a nine hour fruitless slog. Subsequent mudslides had also shut down the lesser routes to Lake Tahoe ensuing in much chaos and thousands of vehicles going nowhere fast. Thus, our several attempts at alternate routes were also met with disappointment and a sea of break lights.

Cutting our losses, we crawled our way back south, and past a chain of "no vacancy" signs to secure a bed for the evening.  As you can imagine, we were not alone in our pursuit.  We finally managed to lay our heads down around 1 a.m., exhausted but extremely grateful to have escaped the madness.

As I write this post sat at my kitchen table on a cold but sunny Sunday afternoon, I wonder what would have happened had we made it to our destination in the snow before the mudslides.  Would we have been able to return home on time?  The answer, most assuredly, is no.  I have just checked the current highway conditions to discover that "due to multiple active mudslides" roads remain closed.

I am so glad to be home.

With Rain Cometh Flowers

Photo: Chronica Domus

There are many things that I have found myself being grateful for over the past few months.  Rain, would you believe, is one of them. I don't recall there was ever a time when I lived in England that I was consciously grateful for rain.  It is a feature of British life.  In fact, complaining about it is a national pastime.  The British enjoy nothing better than to remark upon the state of rain, followed swiftly with an offer of heating up the kettle.  Yes, rainfall and a cuppa make for a perfect pairing.

Living in California for the past quarter century has given me a new perspective on rain.  It arrives less often here, but when it does, it is ferocious. At least, that is, as compared to the weaker drizzly showers I recall from life in Britain.

We have had almost endless rainstorms here in the San Francisco Bay Area these past two months. This may not sound very exciting to most, but for Californians it is a huge relief from the prolonged drought we've endured. The downpours are filling our rivers and reservoirs and turning our straw-colored hills green once again. The damp soil has been beneficial to gardeners too, encouraging spring bulbs to begin their annual show despite the cloudy forecast.  Who needs sun when rain is aplenty?

The daffodil is my favorite flower and I keenly anticipate its annual appearance in the garden (these were photographed earlier today)

Photo: Chronica Domus

The Avalanche narcissi, about which I wrote last year, have been in bloom since late December and will likely continue for at least another month.

I planted these Avalanche narcissi along the front garden path many years ago and they become more vigorous with each passing year (photograph taken today)

Photo: Chronica Domus

What really had me leaping for joy this past weekend was the pleasant sight of other spring bulbs unfurling their blooms. Vivid blue grape hyacinths were slowly awakening and beginning to poke their sword-like heads above ground, as were the first of the orange-centered Cragford narcissi.

In celebration of this annual horticultural milestone, I did what any gardener would do.  I plucked my precious few blooms from their beds and brought them indoors where they now sit, pride of place, upon the kitchen's hanging wall shelf.  How festive these harbingers of spring appear when lined up in their diminutive earthenware ink and polish pots.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Catching a glimpse of these pretty flowers as I make my way about the kitchen, scurrying from sink to stove, truly brightens my day.  They are a reminder of how grateful I am for the pounding rain that beats upon the windows as I type this post.

Tell me, what flowers, if any, are emerging in your garden or neighborhood right now or is the vision of spring blooms months away?

When A Salt Spoon Just Doesn't Cut The Mustard

The unassuming entrance of The London Silver Vaults does not betray the dazzling Aladdin's cave that awaits within

Photo: Chronica Domus

I've been on the hunt for a silver Georgian mustard pot.  I've always fancied the idea of delivering a dollop of biting mustard to one's dinner plate from an elegant receptacle aided, of course, by a small spoon made expressly for the purpose of this pleasurable task.

I just knew I'd chance upon the perfect pot during my recent visit to England which, I'm chuffed to report, I did.  Well, actually, my eagle-eyed husband did, one afternoon while out and about with my sister Penelope and me in Hertfordshire.  He's very well trained in these matters and enjoys the hunt as much as I. The drum-shaped sterling pot is two inches tall and was made in England in 1821.  It has an 'S' handle embellished with a leaf design.  When the thumb piece is depressed, it raises the flat lid. Happily, the original Bristol blue glass liner remains intact.  It slips smoothly into the mustard pot and is designed to facilitate ease of cleaning (I would not recommend buying a pot without its liner as replacements rarely fit correctly).  A family crest is centrally engraved upon the lid and appears to be a large breed dog, possibly an Irish Wolfhound.  I am thrilled my husband found it (thank you, dear!).

Of course, every mustard pot deserves a spoon. As such, my thoughts turned to the American coin silver salt spoon I acquired last December, of which I wrote about here. My intention was to repurpose it for mustard.  Would it appear a tad overbearing in scale and decoration as compared to the diminutive pot I wondered?  Realizing rather quickly that it would simply not cut the mustard (sorry, I am British after all, and one does so enjoy a little punning every now and then), a visit to my favorite London silversmith, William Walter Antique Silver was soon on the cards.

Now, let me tell you, this is no ordinary shop.  It really is not a shop at all in the conventional sense. You see business is, in fact, conducted from Vault Number 3 and 5, located deep beneath the capital's pounding pavements inside The London Silver Vaults.

Moving past the security desk and down into the vaults we descend

Photo: Chronica Domus

For anyone interested in viewing or acquiring household silver objects of every imaginable function and size (I'm not kidding, there's even a silver bed down there!), The London Silver Vaults should be your first port of call.  Once downstairs, meandering the warren of shops at leisure is a singular experience. Not only are the wares dazzling in terms of appearance and sheer quantity, but wandering from one vault to another, through heavy iron doors, is nothing short of surreal.  It is as though one has been let loose within the deepest recesses of Fort Knox.

Photography is not permitted downstairs but I did find this image on-line showing some of the vault doors which are kept open during business hours

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Now, getting back to the matter at hand, a spoon befitting my Georgian mustard pot. I had no doubt that John, who heads the team at William Walter, and with whom I've had the pleasure of purchasing several items of silver in the past, would be able to help.  I was not disappointed.  Laying down a flotilla of small spoons for my perusal - some used for salt, some for mustard, and others for goodness only knows what - I was spoilt for choice.  There were dozens of them!  John explained the large and varied stock of old silver at William Walter has been accumulated over a period of about sixty years.  This provides his lucky patrons with a broad selection of whatever it is they are seeking to purchase.

I believe the little mustard spoon I selected (whose elongated bowl sets it apart from those of rounded salt spoons) is perfectly scaled for use with my mustard pot.  And, it sits comfortably within the lid's slot. It is also period appropriate having been made in 1813 by Richard Stevens of Dublin, Ireland.  It too possesses a family crest, a bull.

I could not be more delighted to marry the Irish Georgian mustard spoon to the English Georgian mustard pot, a match made in heaven!

Photo: Chronica Domus

Another view of the mustard pot, its original Bristol blue glass liner, and the Irish Georgian mustard spoon
Photo: Chronica Domus

John not only has an extensive knowledge of old silver - to describe him as encyclopedic is not an exaggeration in the least - but he also has a true passion for the subject.  This is evident to anyone chatting to him for even a few minutes.  When doing so, be fully prepared to be dazzled by a silver oddity or two, followed immediately with an amusing tidbit about its history.  John's stories are always enthusiastically relayed for his fortunate audience's edification.

When I inquired about viewing, and subsequently purchasing, a sherry bottle ticket from his stash, John asked me what I thought was so unusual about the item.  Not surprisingly, I was stumped. He explained that the original black wax which fills the indentations of the letters S-H-E-R-R-Y remains intact, something not often seen after a few centuries of use.  Oh dear, I thought to myself, before making an alarming confession. I had tried in vein to remove what I thought was tarnish from the reeded decoration of a port bottle ticket I have at home... oops!

Lessons Learned: John tells me that the original black wax on the lettering of my Sherry bottle ticket, made by Charles Rawlings of London in 1828, is still intact unlike the wax from the reeded decoration around my Port label which I've foolishly attempted to remove believing it to be tarnish

Photo: Chronica Domus

This photograph, which John kindly allowed me to take on a previous visit, shows just a drop in the bucket of the goodies available for purchase at William Walter Antique Silver 

Photo: Chronica Domus

I do hope you make time to drop into The London Silver Vaults and visit John at William Walter Antique Silver when next in town.  I promise your efforts will be rewarded with a unique shopping (or browsing) experience.  There is, of course, no obligation to buy.  However, if you are inclined to enjoy shiny and beautiful objects, you'll find it very easy to empty the coffers, and happily so.

Now that I've secured the perfect mustard spoon for my pot, the only decision remaining is which of the trio of mustards will fill the Bristol blue glass liner next*

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.


*For those interested, the walnut Dijon mustard won this round