Time Marches On and Instagram Beckons

Drenched narcissus Thalia in the front garden this morning
Photo: Chronica Domus

It's been an age since I posted anything on this blog so I thought I'd stop by (in case anyone is still reading) to say hello.  I suppose with the clocks going forward by an hour today, I am reminded that time marches on and this is my first post of 2019.  Egads!

The world of blogging is something I became familiar with when I wrote my first comment on a favorite blog many years ago.  Back then, I enjoyed doing the daily rounds of blogs and reading the interesting, enlightening, funny, and sometimes touching things other bloggers wrote about.  Bucking up the courage to begin my own blog in January 2014, I had no idea how rewarding the experience would become.  I've made many blogging friends over the past five years through the comments section of this blog, and have even had the privilege and pleasure of meeting several of them in real life.  Along with being a rewarding pastime blogging is, of course, a time consuming one.  Time, as you might already know, is a valuable commodity and over the past year or so, I've had a difficult time setting aside adequate amounts of it to dedicate to writing and photographing this blog.

So, today I'm here not to say "good bye" just yet, but to tell you all that the posts will continue, albeit at a slower than usual pace.  I'm not quite ready to throw in the towel!  Also, as I do enjoy the interaction that social media can provide, I've finally joined that merry bandwagon known as Instagram.  I know Instagram may be old news to some of you who have been posting for years, but to me it's an exciting new world waiting to be discovered.  I can no longer resist.  If you'd care to join me there, please do so.  Just search for chronicadomus and hopefully you'll find me there.

To use IG talk, #resistanceisfutile

CD

The Tale of Two Howards

nota bene: Please excuse the varying sizes and quality of the images that illustrate this post.  The photographs originate from two different sources and I do not possess adequate knowledge to unify their size.  Also, the two embroidery pieces featured have been photographed under glass which presents a further challenge.

One of the most rewarding and pleasurable aspects of being the author of Chronica Domus is the wonderful comments received in response to the posts I publish.  There are emails too, which often land in my box from readers that have stumbled across a post and wish to share further information about a topic or an item I have written about but don't necessarily wish to leave a comment.  One such email, received recently, aroused such excitement in our household that I thought I would share it with you too.  Here is what it said:

"Good evening, I was intrigued by your picture posted on your blog.  Please take a look at the attachments of an almost identical picture which I have.  Very strange!  Thank you.  Julie Archer".

For a split second, I hesitated clicking on the email's attachments.  Nowadays, one never quite knows what malicious viruses or internet nasties may be lurking.  However, I could see from the miniscule thumbnail pictures at the end of the note that whatever it was that Ms. Archer was sharing with me would be something rather extraordinary.  I was not disappointed.  Rendering me speechless - a rare moment I can assure you - I was confronted with an almost identical mourning embroidery to the one I featured in my post titled Mourning Howard, back in February 2014, which you can read, here.

Here is the young lady featured in Ms. Archer's mourning embroidery - she bares a striking resemblance to the one depicted in my own mourning embroidery seen below 

Photo: Courtesy of Ms. Julie Archer

These two mournful young ladies must surely be related!

Photo: Chronica Domus

As you can imagine, I was thrilled that Ms. Archer wrote to share her mourning embroidery with me. Having just acquired it recently at a small auction house in the north of England, Ms. Archer knew nothing of the artwork's provenance or who had consigned it to auction.  A quick internet search led her to the images of my own mourning embroidery, purchased in London some fifteen years prior. Having noticed the striking similarities in the scene depicted, the workmanship of the stitching and painted vellum head, hands, and 'HOWARD' lettering upon the tomb, Ms. Archer was compelled to contact me.  Surely, our Georgian girls must be related!

It turns out that Ms. Archer has a particular interest in historical textiles.  She holds a Textile Design degree from Leeds University and has taught both art and art history.  She is as curious as I am to learn more about the artist, or artists, of both of our embroidery works.  In due course, Ms. Archer intends on taking her picture to the university's textile department to see if they are able to shed some light on the piece's construction and origin.

What is known about such embroidery works is that during the late-eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, privileged young girls of the leisured and upper classes were expected to master needlework skills.  Most of them, or at least those that had any pretense to taste and refinement, dabbled in these "satin sketches".  Designs were typically drawn on silk, then embroidered using a variety of stitches, neatly showcasing the young girl's abilities.  Small features were cut from vellum and painted using watercolor paints or inks, a characteristic often seen in such late-eighteenth century embroidery pictures. 

Ms. Archer posits that perhaps both of our girls were stitched by sisters, or that the piece in her possession was a prototype of my own, a sort of "practice run". We might, of course, never learn the truth behind these theories but we both agree on one thing, our girls surely began life together.  

Fortunately, my mourning embroidery has been signed upon its wooden backboard by the young artist, Sophia Haine.  Sophia named her work 'Philanthropy at The Tomb of Howard', and dated it December 15th, 1797, the day the embroidery was completed.  Alas, Ms. Archer's piece is not visibly signed.  Does a clue await discovery, I wonder, if the embroidery is removed from its original verre églomisé mat and giltwood frame?

Ms. Archer's artwork is devoid of color and almost sepia or grisaille in tone, making it all the more appealing to my eye

Photo: Courtesy of Ms. Julie Archer

Blue, green, and brown threads and watercolor paints or inks add subtle color to my embroidery picture

Photo: Chronica Domus

Ms. Archer's initial research efforts have yielded two late-eighteenth century parish records for Sophia Haine.  The first Sophia was registered in Shipham parish and was born in Lympsham, Somerset in the year 1782.  She would have been around fifteen years of age when my mourning picture was completed.  The second Sophia Haine, daughter of Samuel and Maria Haine, was born in 1783, and resided in Lambeth, Surrey, an area now considered part of London. This Sophia would have been around fourteen years of age in 1797.   

My mourning embroidery which hangs in our drawing room is titled 'Mourning Howard' and signed and dated by the artist Sophia Haine, December 15th, 1797

Photo: Chronica Domus

Ms. Archer's unsigned, but surely related, 'Mourning Howard' embroidery picture is almost identical to my own, down to the faithfully executed fence and background trees seen at right

Photo: Courtesy of Ms. Julie Archer

Ms. Archer will, of course, continue to dig deeper into the mystery of who stitched her mourning embroidery picture and if it is connected to my own.  She has promised to report back with updates and is even prepared to undertake her own Magical Mystery Tour, all in the name of research.  A van and tent, she tells me, are at her disposal in case long-distance travel is called for. 

Thank you, Ms. Julie Archer, for reaching out and making me aware of the existence of your beautiful mourning embroidery.  I look forward to learning more about its history and what the connection to my own piece is. Who knows, we may even get an opportunity of reuniting our girls after two centuries of separation.

To be continued... one hopes!

The House That Almost Was

Source

As I wrote in my last post, I've been rather distracted as of late.  I have spent a considerable amount of time and energy these past few months contemplating a move back to England with my family. You see, during our visit to London last December, we made arrangements to view a house - twice - that was listed for sale. The property, situated in a small rural village two hours north of London, ticked all the right boxes, or so we thought.  Mellow Georgian brick facade, a substantial plot of land, sash windows with original internal shutters, crunchy gravel driveway, mature specimen trees, intact period outbuilding ...you get the idea. There's even an Aga in the kitchen although that appeals to me more than it does my husband.  I suppose everything one knows about cooking would have to be relearned if one were to actually make use of this most British of country house kitchen contraptions. Aside from the cooking, the Aga would most certainly come in handy during the cold winter months. Those drafty country houses have earned their reputation for good reason, don't you know?

My husband has lived in California all of his life and I have had the privilege of living here for the past twenty-six years.  Moving anywhere, let alone half way across the world, is an enormous decision. Our daughter Patience would dearly love the chance to live in the same country as many of her cousins, uncles, and aunts, whom she knows intimately well.  I believe she's traveled to the UK at least fifteen times already, not bad considering her young age. Patience views England as her second home.

Although we have occasionally toyed with the idea of such a move, the handsome Georgian house we viewed, together with the recent favorable dollar-to-pound currency exchange rate, were our main
motivating factors to make it happen.  A move across the pond suddenly became far more feasible than at any other time in recent memory.  Of course, arrangements would have to be made to sell our house too, but with property around these parts flying off the market within weeks of it being listed, and in some cases days, we feel that would not pose too great an obstacle.  By contrast, the house in the English village has languished on the market for well over a year; the selling price having been reduced twice thus far. With a motivated seller, the carrot is tantalizingly within our reach.

As you can imagine, packing up one's entire household - lock, stock and barrel - and shipping it half way across the globe comes at a hefty price tag, a financial burden worth considering when contemplating any move, particularly one so distant.  Sifting through the handful of estimates we have obtained from various shipping outfits, we have discovered that the cost alone of insuring one's furniture for safe transit is akin to a king's ransom!  Then, of course, there's the question of what to do with our old and trusty Volvo wagon, so handy for carting people, pets, and large household items around. It's almost a member of our family. Do we ship that too, or sell it? Would it ever feel "right" driving a left-hand drive on the left-hand side of the road? And, there's that other little matter of taxes.  Do you know that it is the responsibility of every US Citizen living abroad to file taxes annually in both their adopted country and at home?  This rule will apply to Patience too when she eventually joins the UK workforce, regardless of the fact that she has never earned a cent here. And, talking of paperwork, let's address the reams of forms required, along with the hefty fees, for successfully navigating one's way through the maze of UK entry requirements.  It's enough to make one's head spin!  Although I consider my English skills to be somewhat proficient, it boggles the mind how anyone who lacks a law degree can make head or tail of some of these forms. And, of course, we come to Norton, our beloved pet cat. I believe his pile of paperwork, when stacked, might just be taller than him!

Looking past the financial and practical issues of transplanting our household half way across the globe, when all is said and done would we ever fully adjust to life in a rural British village where attending the local pub and church form the main pastimes of the local villagers?   Personally, I would have absolutely no trouble adjusting, having already resided in both town and country during my time living in England. If I crave the trappings of big city life there's always London, a mere two-hour car journey south.

It is our young daughter Patience we worry about.  What opportunities would she be missing out on if we bit the bullet and made the move?  How about schooling?  Would she find herself lagging behind the other students having been tutored in an entirely different educational system?  Would she be missing out on the benefits of living in a culturally diverse area, such as is the case with San Francisco or any other major city, where opportunities for employment, among other things, are abundant?  Agricultural jobs abound in the area of the village.  Beyond that, there's really little else.

Aside from the obvious lifestyle adjustment, what of the future?  As we don't have the advantage of peering into a crystal ball, my husband and I have done the next best thing and diligently researched the area of the village and nearby market town. Worryingly, a recurring theme we hit upon was flooding due to the area's low-lying topography and proximity to various water sources. Tidal flooding, sadly, is a real and serious concern.  From everything we've read, things are predicted to worsen over the coming years with the rising sea levels. Would our daughter be shackled to a sinking inheritance?  Most probably so.

For now, here we remain. Although the cons outstripped the pros with this particular Georgian village property, we feel we've earned ourselves quite an education in the minutia of a global move. We are now far better prepared, both emotionally and factually, were a similar opportunity to present itself in the future.  In the meantime, I am very happy to return to this rather neglected blog, and to you my loyal readers.

Of course, the silver lining to this tale is that we still get to happily live our lives in our beloved 1920's house, enjoying the benefits of a thriving local economy, excellent weather, remarkable scenery, and the pleasurable companionship of close friends and good neighbors. We have much for which to be thankful.

Coming Up For Air

Source

Please excuse my absence from the Blogosphere.  I have been rather over-scheduled as of late with much to distract me.  All of it pleasant, mind you.  I needed to come up for air and thought I would say a quick hello to those of you who might be wondering where I've been.

Normal service will, of course, resume shortly.  You may be interested to learn that I have been working on a number of posts which I hope you'll find interesting and engaging.  So, until then, please do stay tuned.

CD

Signs of Life

As much as I anticipate the arrival of the more familiar harbingers of spring, few things can compare to the joy these little fellows bring to my life.

Photo: Chronica Domus

I happened upon them two weeks back as they reveled in the early afternoon dappled light created by the weeping willows that line a small local lake.  Fresh from what must surely have been one of their earliest swimming lessons, courtesy of their attentive mother, the five student goslings waddled shakily onto terra firma and to the safety of the grassy verge.

Mother Goose and her five goslings in training
Photo: Chronica Domus

Photo: Chronica Domus

I realized, while captivated by this annual sighting of goslings, that spring was once again in full force.  I also grasped the fact that my year had slipped by, all pell-mell and topsy-turvy. Was it really the ides of  May already?

Photo: Chronica Domus

These tiny signs of new life remind me that it's time to bring some order to my world and get back to the pleasurable pursuit of blogging on a more regular schedule.

Photo: Chronica Domus

So, here I am.  I do hope you'd like to waddle along for the ride as I put finger to keyboard and attempt to chronicle some of life's more pleasant moments...as I see them.

Hope springs eternal.

Easter Greetings

Chocolate Easter eggs, nestled in an English creamware chestnut basket,
lend a spring-like note to our dining table
Photo: Chronica Domus

I'm afraid I've had rather a full plate lately, which explains my neglect of this blog and general absence from the Blogosphere.  Alas, I've neither had sufficient time to dedicate to writing posts, or doing the rounds of my favorite blogs.

Rest assured though, I shall be back, and normal service will resume whenever things ease up a little around these parts. In the meantime, I wish you all, my loyal readers and followers, a very Happy Easter and all the joy that unfurls during this season of renewal.

How will you be celebrating today?

A London Blogger Meet Up and A New Umbrella

Shortly before my visit to London, I contacted Naomi, the witty, intelligent, and charming authoress of the blog Coulda Shoulda Woulda to see if she would be available and interested in meeting.  I was delighted when she graciously accepted my invitation.  She even suggested a most unusual place to meet.

Naomi writes with a wicked wry sense of humor and her blog is my primary source for all things au courant when it comes to London. I particularly enjoy her round up posts on things she has seen and done about town, and consider them a virtual conduit to my former hometown.  Her posts have been known to make me homesick.

We had arranged to meet at 11 a.m. so I exited the busy Oxford Street tube station in plenty of time for our rendezvous.  As I headed in the direction of our meeting place, I was delighted to have the opportunity to wander by one of my favorite Regency era churches.

John Nash presiding over his Regency masterpiece

Photo: Chronica Domus

One cannot fail to be wowed by All Souls church with its beautiful circular portico of mellowed honey color Bath stone.  The structure sticks out like an exclamation mark at the northern end of central London's resplendent Regent Street.

All Souls glows against the grey December skies

Photo: Chronica Domus

Photo: Chronica Domus

All Souls church was designed by architect John Nash, who was responsible for much of the Regency era layout of London.  His famous curve of buildings on Regent Street by Piccadilly Circus is a marvel, to say nothing of his elegant semicircular curve of stuccoed terraced houses on Park Crescent.

Park Crescent

Photo: Chronica Domus

A little further along on my walk, another familiar building presented itself. Affectionately referred to as Auntie Beeb, or The Beeb, you may know it better as the British Broadcasting Corporation.

The entrance to Broadcasting House

Photo: Chronica Domus

This iconic Art Deco building is the hub of the BBC's news, radio, and television broadcasting enterprise, which is beamed across the world to a hundred and fifty million strong weekly audience.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Within a few minutes I had located Foley Street and the place I was to meet Naomi.

The Attendant

Photo: Chronica Domus

The Attendant is probably the most unconventional coffee shop you will ever stumble upon.  You see, it was at one time, long ago, a Victorian gentlemen's toilet.  Yes, that's right, a toilet!  I confess it took a little getting used to the fact that I would soon be sitting in an underground former public convenience, much like those I recall frequenting as a child when my mother would take my sisters and I shopping in the West End. The odious stench of disinfectant that I remember so vividly was now, thank goodness, gone, replaced by the pleasant aroma of roasted coffee beans.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Sipping cappuccinos with amiable Naomi was indeed a treat.  In fact, I believe this particular coffee meeting was a personal best, lasting four entire hours. We managed to chat up a storm on all manner of topics which, I suppose, should not have come as a surprise judging by some of the subject matter that is covered on her blog.  A worldly woman, Naomi is at ease talking on everything from matters of what constitutes a good cup of coffee (which The Attendant can certainly offer), to the finer points of British law.  It was a true privilege to have met her, an opportunity I might otherwise have not experienced were it not for this extraordinary social medium known as The Blogosphere.

Photo: Chronica Domus

I hated to tear myself away, but I had a visiting relative to meet that afternoon back at the house. When we emerged from our underground coffee fest, the streets of Fitzrovia were wet.  Walking a few blocks together before parting ways, Naomi delighted in pointed out some interesting local buildings and giving me a brief history of the area and its coffee connections.  I think she would make a terrific tour guide in her spare time.

I was not prepared for the damp weather so frequently encountered in England and as I happened to be in the area, there was only one thing for it.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Many years ago, I swore off the purchase of yet another beautifully made umbrella because, inevitably, if you are anything like me, you too will be stamping your feet in frustration, trying to recall where you left the darn thing at exactly the moment you need it the most.  However, as I was getting rather wet, and one of England's oldest family run businesses was but a few minutes walk from where I happened to be standing, you can guess what came next.  As the saying goes "When in Rome...".

Probably the best place to seek shelter during a rainy spell in London

Photo: Chronica Domus

A retail establishment like James Smith & Sons is a rare sight in today's modern world, but ultimately, the quality of their sturdy and handsome umbrellas (and walking sticks), along with the fact that we humans are destined to lose them, has kept this family run business chugging along since 1830.

Photo: Chronica Domus

The shop itself is beautifully outfitted with original Victorian fittings and fixtures.  Most of the umbrellas are still hand-made in the basement workshop, but the company sells so many nowadays that they have had to outsource some of their work to local small family firms.

As is typical, at least on the occasions I've visited, business was booming.  The shop floor was jam packed with patrons selecting the most stylish umbrellas and walking sticks available for sale.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Photo: Chronica Domus

I knew exactly what I wanted and headed directly for the ladies' selection of umbrellas.  I honed in on a beautiful claret colored model (the last one I owned was black), complete with a comfortable Whangee cane crook handle and, of course, the sturdy frame that has given James Smith & Sons umbrellas their world-class reputation.  The icing on the cake of this particular model came in the form of a little horn ring that conveniently cradles the tips of the eight umbrella ribs in place when closed.  What a splendid little detail that is!  Every ladies' umbrella is also furnished with a color coordinated tassel.

My new umbrella about to be pressed into action

Photo: Chronica Domus

Walking out into he wet and windy streets of London, I immediately put my new umbrella to good use.  Not only that, but I am overjoyed to report that it has become a staple in my hand since returning home to San Francisco.  You see, El Niño's downpours have made a welcome appearance to our parched city and for that, I am most pleased.

Next: A visit to my favorite museum.

 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.

A Visit with Lisa of Privilege Blog

A typically overcast but warm November morn at the Alameda Antiques Faire
with views of San Francisco's skyline on the horizon
Photo: Chronica Domus

Last weekend I had the distinct pleasure of meeting Lisa, the prolific author of the blog Privilege. Lisa writes primarily of fashion and style for ladies in their 50's, peppered with thoughtful musings on her gardening exploits, and the occasional travel adventure. She has also written extensively about her personal background examining its societal context.  If you've yet to have the pleasure of reading Lisa's blog, please do.  She can turn a phrase like few others can.

Our visit materialized from a blog post I had written back in September about some early English creamware plates I unearthed at the Alameda Antiques Faire.  Lisa left a comment explaining that although she had absolutely no experience with "The Hunt", she would dearly enjoy it, especially as she was on the look out for some older items to add to her home.  Naturally, an invitation was swiftly dispatched requesting the pleasure of Lisa's company at a future faire excursion. I was charmed when she graciously accepted the challenge of navigating the broad and muddy waters of this enormous market with me and my dear friend Jeanette.  Now, let me tell you, it takes a sturdy gal (or guy) to wade through the vast assortment of flotsam and jetsam in this place.  Of course, Lisa proved her mettle and performed swimmingly with the sheer overload of "stuff" jam-packed into the eight-hundred or so stalls that could very easily make most people's heads spin.

I shall not divulge too much more on our adventure because Lisa has today published a post on our day out.  I encourage you to read it by going here.

We trio of hunter gathering gabbers had such a swell time of it that we promised to plot another excursion to the faire in the not too distant future.  It can take several visits to find exactly what one might have in mind to bring home, making each visit a unique experience as offerings and stall holders constantly change.

Lisa, Jeannette, and I chit chatted so much that when it was time to bid our adieus, we knew that the day had been a roaring success, not necessarily because of the trinkets and keepsakes we managed to unearth, but because we had found something even more precious, a new friendship.  What a wonderfully enriching experience it was to take a virtual friendship to the next level and turn it into something three dimensional.

Thank you, Lisa, for being such a fun sport.  Your enthusiasm and easy company were a joy.  I very much look forward to our next adventure, wherever that may take us.

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

Photo: Chronica Domus

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.

It's A Little Blurry Around Here

For the past month or so, I've noticed that whenever I attempt to upload the amateurish photographs that help illustrate my posts to Blogger, something rather odd happens. Not so noticeable perhaps at first glance, but when one expands the images to their full capacity, they become rather blurry.

I was beginning to wonder if I should pay a visit to my ophthalmologist.  It then crossed my mind that my trusty little camera might have packed it all in and demanded its retirement.  Prodding further into this sorry state of affairs, having already wasted several frustrating hours fiddling with settings I didn't even know existed, I came to the realization that both my camera and my spectacles were performing as expected. There was only one thing left to do and that was to throw myself down the rabbit hole that is Google and figure out exactly what it was that was causing my crisply detailed images to become a blur.

The answer, as it turns out, is that Blogger has deemed it appropriate to degrade the quality of my carefully shot images and publish them at a mere fraction of their original size and quality.  My hands were tied.  I had absolutely no control of how my images were published.  To anyone who cares about such things, you can only imagine the frustration this has caused.

I've finally discovered a hack to restore my previous month's foggy image postings to their maximum effect; a pain to be sure, but a step I shall have to endure for all future published photographs.  I have now applied the hack to each and every photograph of the last four postings.

Below is an example of what it is I'm talking about (don't forget to stretch/expand the images for full effect):

A degraded image of an Iris I included in a recent post

Photo: Chronica Domus

The higher quality original image - with hack applied - insuring it is published the way it was meant to be seen

Photo: Chronica Domus

Please bear with me while I work out a better solution to this time-consuming "trick".  I shall resume my regularly scheduled postings within a few days but wanted to keep you all abreast of the goings on behind Chronica Domus.

Blogoversary, A First

Just like Fred and Rita, I'm floating on a cloud

Source

I never thought I'd actually reach my first anniversary of blogging, a blogoversary if you like, but I have, and I'm overjoyed.  In fact, I am floating on a cloud and happy to celebrate this joyous milestone with you today.  For it is all of you who have provided the encouragement and given me the opportunity to persevere with my scrawlings on life at home and away, writing on subjects as catholic as a humble flower pot, or the recreation of a Jeffersonian pea contest, or even replacing an ugly garage door or a night at the opera.

I feel humbled and grateful each and every time you take a moment from your busy day to generously bestow Chronica Domus with a comment, or share an interesting anecdote or a useful tidbit of information.  It really does enrich the entire blogging experience for myself and our little tribe of merry readers from around the globe. I've learned so much from you this past year, thank you. And, for those of you whom I've yet to meet due to your bashful disposition, I do encourage you to enter the fold and introduce yourself by leaving a comment, here today.  It would be so very nice to make your acquaintance, wherever you may lurk.

I recall the excitement and nervousness I felt upon casting my line blindly into the waters of the blogosphere, waiting patiently to see if or when I'd catch a bite.  Until then, I had only participated in blogs as a commenter.  Would anyone even be interested in reading my awkward scribblings, I wondered?  A few days after I published my inaugural post, I was over the moon at receiving my very first comment from none other than Reggie Darling, whom many of you know as one of the blogosphere's preeminent guiding lights, and the final word on elegant living and social comportment. I know Reggie has been sorely missed by many of late, and I do hope he will consider returning his hat to the ring, for it would be lovely to welcome him back. Perhaps I could lure him in with the promise of a couple more jars of homemade marmalade?

Hot on the heels of my first comment, I received my second, a warm welcome from Meg of Pigtown Design, a long-time luminary in the world of blogging.  Well, as you might imagine, I was chuffed to pieces.  The rest, as they say, is history.  I had no idea that Chronica Domus would see me connect with so many like-minded people, from all walks of life, scattered across so many countries.

As I enter my second year of blogging, I hope that natural curiosity in my surroundings, the people I share my life with, my travels both near and far, and my interactions with you, shall provide ample fodder toward another year of informative and engaging blog posts for your enjoyment and edification.

Won't you please continue along with me on my journey?  One never quite knows of what may be written next.