The Annual Marmalade Making Adventure Continues

It felt like Christmas in April as I opened Reggie's beautifully wrapped kumquat marmie as part of The Great Marmalade Exchange of 2014

Photo: Chronica Domus

Back in February I posted a piece, that can be read here, on how we, or more specifically my husband, came to make marmalade at home, something that has now evolved into an annual rite of winter.  The first comment I received on the story was from Reggie Darling, the author of the wildly popular Reggie Darling, The View From Darlington House (I'm sure there aren't too many readers left in this corner of the blogosphere who've yet to discover this elegantly stylish, informative, and witty blog).  After a few emails transpired between us, the idea of The Great Marmalade Exchange was hatched.  You can read all about it at Reggie's blog here.

Reggie's preferred way of eating marmie, straight off the spoon!

Photo: Chronica Domus

Who knew that when we began our Annual Marmalade Making Adventure and I wrote about it, it would add impetus to the marmalade making aspirations of one of my favorite bloggers.  This week, I happily received a jar of Reggie's kumquat marmie, beautifully wrapped in blousy tissue paper and ribbon, and nesting in a bed of excelsior.  I can report firsthand that his inaugural effort into marmalade pursuits has resulted in the perfect storm in a jar; a confluence of juice, rind, and sugar making for a puckery spread which is absolutely delish!  Bravo Reggie!  My family and I enjoyed the marmie this morning at breakfast on our buttered toast with cups of tea.  We got through nearly half the jar before my insistence that it be put away so we could all enjoy it again on another morning. It was that good!

I am aware that marmalade is not as popular as other preserves at breakfast time in this country, but could that have come about as a result of having tasted only commercially available cloying concoctions?  Traditionally, homemade marmalade is an entirely different animal; less sweet, more bitter and therefore much more likely to make an impression upon the palate.  Some will never come to love marmalade, but an informed opinion is simply not possible without first having tried a properly bitter batch made fresh at home.  Into which camp do you fall - love it, or loathe it?

Paschal Pleasures: The Egg

Eggs in hues of pale green, buff and pale blue

Photo: Chronica Domus

Each year as we prepare to celebrate Easter, eggs are the recurring central theme in the decoration of our home. Whereas many households focus their seasonal imagery around lambs, bunnies and chicks, for us it is all about the egg.  We don't over do it when it comes to decorating, instead choosing to add a vase of flowering seasonal branches, a compote or two of eggs that have been dyed by my daughter, as well as a variety of Easter chocolate confections.

I was given some rather unusual eggs by my sister-in-law that I thought would be an eggcelent excellent addition to the annual Easter egg hunt that my daughter so enjoys.  Here they are in my garden trug awaiting their clandestine spot in the flower bed.

Rhea, emu, goose and partridge eggs beneath the flowering Polygonatum

Photo: Chronica Domus

The eggs vary in size from the smallest two inch drab colored partridge example to the largest six inch rhea giants in the most delicate lemon chiffon color.  The darkest egg was produced by an emu and has a granulated surface in deep teal and is about five inches in length.  A pure white three inch goose egg is also in the mix.

The hidden eggs awaiting discovery by my daughter

Photo: Chronica Domus

These were fun to tuck in among the spring flowers and they blended in rather well with their naturally colored shells.  I hid the emu egg in a little mound of violas.

An Emu egg in disguise

Photo: Chronica Domus

The partridge egg's drab olive tone worked well hidden in the violet patch.  I'm just hoping the resident Scrub Jays don't get to it before my daughter does.  Many years ago, I had displayed a basket of dyed eggs on my kitchen table close to a partially opened window.  To my astonishment a Scrub Jay flew into the kitchen and claimed his bounty by pecking the eggs to pieces.  It was truly a remarkable moment of nature gone bad, but why was I surprised by this?  They are, after all, nest robbers by vocation.

Could you have found the partridge egg as is blends effortlessly into the violet patch?

Photo: Chronica Domus

The giant rhea and smaller goose eggs were a little less difficult to find due to their bright shells and large size.

Not so much hiding but looking pretty in the spring garden

Photo: Chronica Domus

These naturally hued jewels are such a fun twist on the traditional Easter egg hunt that I think I'll do it all again next year.  I'm sure both adults and children alike would enjoy hunting for these whimsical beauties.

I wish you all a very Happy Easter.

Auction Day

The bough (or cache) pot of my dreams: A John Turner black basalt pot with lid (circa 1780 to 1806), as seen in an article written by the ceramics expert Mrs. Willoughby Hodgson, author of How To Identify Old China

As I left off in in my previous post, which can be read here, I could hardly stand the wait until the commencement of the auction the following day.  The small distraction of having my daughter's friend stay the night helped pass the time a little more swiftly, as I was charged with whipping up a Sunday breakfast to impress two ravenously hungry young  ladies. Freshly baked popovers with lashings of creamy butter and a dollop of raspberry jam, scrambled eggs, ripe strawberries and, as if I needed the stimulating effects of caffeine, a personal pot of strong coffee to fortify me through the lunch hour.

The auction is to begin at 10 a.m. sharp, and as the lot I am interested in will not come under the hammer until later in the day, we leave the house in the early afternoon to make our way to the sale.  Upon arrival, plenty of time remains to register at the desk, collect our paddle, and watch as several lots sell. My husband and I take the opportunity to assess the collection of ceramics on offer in the event I have missed anything of interest from the prior day in my excitement.  There are certainly some tempting pieces; the urn shaped vases and incense burner speak to me in particular.  If we are to hold hope for a successful bid on our lot of interest, we will have to remain focused on the prize and keep our powder dry.

I'm sure by now you are wondering what exactly it is that has tingled my spine and induced me into such an excitable state.  I should note that although my holy grail of the basalt world is not something which would necessarily appeal to everyone, for me the piece encompasses both my passion for flowers as well as for  containers to arrange them. I am drawn to the severe urn-like form of this piece (I have a "thing" for urns), its neoclassical cartouche decorations, its plinth, ball and paw feet, as well as to the item's intended purpose. In fact, it is something I have long coveted since it arrived at my notice, by way of an old photograph, contained within a book on ceramics (illustrated above).  I have never seen one of these pieces in the flesh prior to my nail biting day at auction.

So, here I am, with not just one of these long sought after items, but two.  Yes, TWO, and they are both offered within the same lot.  Can the necessary variables withstand such luck, namely my husband, my nerves, and my bank account?

The lot that led to my undoing

Photo: Chronica Domus

For many years, I have hoped to stumble across one of these illusive beauties, and introduce it to my little collection of black basalt. Outside of the pair photographed above, I have never actually seen one for sale. While researching this piece, I discovered such a pair had sold at auction in London many years prior, but  were notably missing their perforated lids.  In this instance both the pyramidal surmounted lids are included and intact.  There is not a chip, scratch or repair between the four pieces.  They are perfect in every possible way, and I want them!

These bough pots (or cache pots as they are sometimes called), were made by John Turner, the master potter, friend and rival of Josiah Wedgwood, sometime between 1780 and 1806. Interestingly, many of Turner's designs unabashedly reflected the influence of Wedgwood. Look at the following photograph I found in my copy of the auction catalog from the Milton Milestone Wedgwood sales held in New York in 1975 and 1976. Clearly, the Wedgwood pots and the Turner pots could have been made by the same hand.  Don't you agree?

A pair of Wedgwood bough pots in the collection of Milton Milestone that was sold at Sotheby's on April 6, 1976 in New York

Photograph: Chronica Domus

As the ceramic lots begin arriving on the block, the auction room is about half full.  I have speculated in the run up as to who, if anyone, should be my rival when pursuing my quarry. My husband and I are seated toward the middle of the room which places the majority of bidders behind us.  We really cannot get a good grasp on the competition.  After much dithering, we decide to move towards the back of the room which, to our way of thinking, affords a better vantage point on the proceedings.

The black basalt tea ware lots are selling fast, one after the other.  Most sell within the estimated range, which I take as strong indication that I may be in with a chance when it comes my turn to bid. The bough pots are rapidly approaching and I can feel my heart pounding harder and harder.

I've been in this room many times prior to today and have often been the successful bidder on items that are now resting proudly in my home.  However, on this occasion, seeing the interest intensify as my lot approaches the auction block, wracked with nerves I turn to jelly. I am suddenly a feeble wobbly mess and stand little chance of surviving the battle ahead. There is only one thing to do.  I turn the paddle over to my trusty husband, my rock, and take my chances.  And, what a good job he did!  The two bidders in the room, one a dealer who had already successfully won many items of furniture and decoration, the other a collector, have rapidly run up the price. Then, out of the blue, a live internet bidder chimes in to raise the heat.  My husband is next.  I can barely look as the auctioneer announces "we have a new bidder in the back".  It is now a war between the internet bidder and us.  After several bidding rounds, my husband looks at me and says "should I?", meaning shall we bid to win.  "Yes do", I nervously mutter, trepidation etched on my face, barely getting the words out of my parched mouth, and praying this will not lead to ruin as the pace and price escalate in tandem. I begin to breathe again just in time to see the auctioneer motion towards my husband to show her his paddle. Victory! We've won!  I can barely comprehend it. I need to sit down and compose myself.  I really should have packed my smelling salts as I have transformed into a complete nervous Nellie.   Although I am not a serious collector of ceramics, at least by most people's definition, I feel as though we were pitted against a few of them at this auction.

Our bough pots looking pretty with their spring blooms

Photo: Chronica Domus

I am ecstatic that we are now the proud stewards of these two beautiful vessels that will be very well appreciated and used for their intended purpose.  In fact, just this morning, I raced out of the house to purchase some spring blooms at the farmers' market.  It was so much fun to arrange the flowers within the pyramidal lids.  Each has a dozen holes, three per side, and act much like a flower frog. When not in use, they shall have pride of place on one of our side tables or atop the mantel.  I cannot help but wonder where the veiled caryatids at each of the four corners of the pots have lived in their two hundred years of existence, how they've traveled across the seas from England and their humble beginnings in Staffordshire, and how their prior owners used and displayed them.  This evening, these two beauties will grace our dining table, where they shall punctuate our lily white tablecloth with their dark and stately presence.  Admittedly, these were a bit of a splurge for us, but the color has finally been restored to my husband's face and all is well as I await the next great find.

An Auction Preview To Excite

A substantial (and tempting) late 18th century black basalt urn shaped vase and cover by Wedgwood & Bentley

Photo: Chronica Domus

This past February, I attended an auction where, unfortunately, I was the unsuccessful bidder on a piece of artwork. While there, I spotted a few items of interest that were not part of the current sale.  They were prominently displayed in the two glass cases flanking the entrance doors to the auction house. I inquired at the registration desk as to when the two Wedgwood urns and the black basalt sphinx candlestick would be coming under the hammer.  I was told these items were to be featured in the next Period Art and Design sale at the end of March. Unfortunately, the catalog for that auction was not yet available for viewing.  All I could do was wait another month to see what else might catch my eye.

A pair of 19th century Wedgwood jasper urns in an unusual straw color with black decoration.

Photo: Chronica Domus

When the catalog was eventually made available for viewing in mid-March, I found myself being simultaneously overjoyed and heart poundingly nervous at the sight of a substantial haul of ceramic goodies on offer. Part of the overall sale featured a large collection of late eighteenth and early nineteenth century black basalt pieces manufactured by Wedgwood and his contemporaries, a particular collecting interest of mine.  There were also many pieces of jasperware in an assortment of colors and color combinations, caneware, and several impressive porphyry glazed terracotta pieces.  I knew this auction could steer me into imminent danger and lead to my undoing upon spying lot after lot of items I'd only ever seen between the walls of a museum or the covers of reference books.  This was by far the largest collection of  early Wedgwood I had ever seen outside of the official Wedgwood museum in Stoke-on-Trent.  Of course other large collections have come up for sale in other well respected auction houses within the United States, but I can tell you that I live on the wrong side of the country for such things to appear locally.  This was definitely an auction to induce an experience worthy of smelling salts.

A diminutive black basalt urn shaped vase and cover

Photo: Chronica Domus

With this in mind, what was a girl to do when confronted with a veritable chocolate box of goodies?  Well, the answer, of course, would be to attend the auction's preview, and that is exactly what I did last Saturday. My good friend and neighbor, who is often my partner in crime on such hunts, accompanied me on this expedition and was my voice of reason as we both ogled the cases bursting with pretties.

The preview rooms were hopping with interested individuals and potential bidders scouring both the decorative arts pieces on offer, and the trove of fine jewelry that was to be featured as part of the Salon Jewelry Sale on the day following the Period Art and Design Sale.

The collection I had come to view was divided into forty-three lots.  Of those, seventeen comprised exclusively of black basalt pieces. There was an abundance of tea and coffee pots, sugar bowls, creamers and milk jugs decorated in a variety of engine turned designs and applied relief molding.

A lot of tea ware including a tea canister (back right), and a teapot with a swan finial manufactured by William Baddeley of Eastwood

Photo: Chronica Domus

This lot of tea ware included a teapot manufactured by the Spode factory (back right)

Photo: Chronica Domus

Yet another lot of tea ware comprised mainly of engine turned designs

Photo: Chronica Domus

Several urns were featured in various sizes along with incense burners, spittoons, vases, a tea canister and even a large punch pot.  Oh, and the lone sphinx candlestick I had seen back in February was now featured as a lot on its own.

A beautiful late 18th century Wedgwood & Bentley black basalt urn shaped vase with lid, a very tempting piece

Photo: Chronica Domus

All of  the pieces I examined appeared to be in excellent condition with barely a chip or scratch between them.  Obviously, whoever compiled the collection (and I would guess at least the basalt pieces came from a single collector), took great care of it and had exacting standards when adding to it.  Some of the pieces I handled came complete with previous auction tags marking their passage through prior sales.  I spotted a few from an auction that Sotheby's held in New York in 1984, and others from their earlier sales.  There were even lot tags from auctions held at Philips in London.  One sticker of note adhered to the underside of an urn had indicated its provenance through the collection of Milton Milestone, the renowned international collector of Wedgwood. Further research tells me it may have left the nest during one of two great sales held in 1975 and 1976 by Sotheby's in New York.

 A spittoon, urn shaped vase (formerly in the collection of Milton Milestone), and a sublime incense burner

Photo: Chronica Domus

An appetizing  lot comprised of a cylindrical vase (center), an urn shaped vase (right), and what I think to be the bottom of a cassolette (left, described as a vase)

Photo: Chronica Domus

Within the dizzying selection of lots, there were several examples of basalt to tempt me. However, those pieces were distributed over several lots and I was not interested in buying  lots in their entirety just to add a minority of included items to my own humble collection. Not to worry, as every item I'd seen, no matter how impressive it was initially, fell to the wayside once I'd spotted the one spectacular lot I knew I had to have. It was one of those visceral moments that set my heart aflutter and took my breath away, and it most assuredly qualified as a smelling salt moment.

I could hardly contain my excitement and nervousness and could tell that it would be an agonizing twenty-four hour wait until the opening of the auction the following day.  My poor dear husband, not hearing the end of it, would surely be feeling as though the time could not arrive soon enough.

A Wedgwood & Bentley porphyry glazed terracotta vase on a black basalt base with mask decorations at the base of the handles

Photo: Chronica Domus

An impressive pair of late 18th century Wedgwood porphyry glazed terracotta urns formerly in the Zeitlin ceramics collection

Photo: Chronica Domus

In my next post I will share what held me so spellbound and whether or not I was the successful bidder on what I considered to be the holy grail of black basalt pieces for my small personal collection.

I hope you'll join me on the auction floor for the conclusion of my story.

What Is (was) Blooming Inside

Spring blooming flowers arranged in a black basalt sugar basin

Photo: Chronica Domus

Nota bene: I had intended to publish this post back in February but it somehow got buried within the other posts I was working on.  I hope you enjoy it despite the fact that these little flowers are long gone and remain but a pleasant memory.

As you will learn over time on this blog, I love flowers and other natural elements that I am able to bring into my home to enjoy.  I feel that no matter how fine the contents, or how beautiful one's home is, it becomes even more so with the addition of seasonal gifts from the natural world.   Take, for example, the diminutive arrangement pictured in the preceding photograph.  I picked the last of the blue grape hyacinth stragglers and the sunny Avalanche narcissi that were blooming around my home (seen here), and added some cheery yellow and white tulips I had purchased at the San Francisco Flower Market.  The arrangement sits on our drawing room's mantel and brightens the room no end.  Don't you agree?

A close up view of the cheery arrangement on our mantel

Photo: Chronica Domus

Any surface or corner of your home will be enhanced greatly by any size arrangement, no matter how small or large,  in a vessel of your choosing.  For this arrangement, I utilized a black basalt sugar basin for my little corner of cheerfulness.  As I gaze upon it, I cannot fail but to smile and gain a sunny disposition.

Tell me, do you make a point of enjoying fresh cut flowers, branches, seed pods, leaves, fruit or other such offerings from nature around your home throughout the year? 

Cows, Blue Tits and Little Miss Muffet

 Ingredients for making Farmers' Cheese: whole milk, white vinegar, kosher salt and chives, photographed in the glare of the early morning light

Photo: Chronica Domus

As we drove through the countryside headed for the town of Petaluma recently, one could not fail but to notice how green the surrounding hills had become.  This brought me much happiness as just a few months earlier the alarming sight of a palette of mahogany and chestnut tones dominated the landscape.  Obviously, the drought had markedly taken its toll. A few necessary and welcomed rain showers have now transformed the landscape into a picturesque vision of spring, making the herds of dairy cows that graze along the hillsides very content.  I feel most fortunate indeed to live in an area where farmers care for the well-being of their bovine beauties by allowing them to roam freely and graze on pastures green.  Not only is this responsible husbandry of benefit to the animals, it is also healthy for us as consumers.  I appreciate knowing the provenance of my milk when retrieving it from my refrigerator.

Part of my childhood was spent in Kent, known also as The Garden of England, where the gently undulating hills were more suited to grazing sheep than to cows.  Back then, our milk was delivered daily by a milkman before dawn, in pint-sized glass bottles with either red or silver foil tops.  It was my job to set out the empty bottles at night and retrieve the fresh delivery each morning from the doorstep.  I recall my annoyance most mornings at finding the clever little Blue Tits had already beaten me to the milk.  They were skillful masters at pecking their way through the foil tops of our full-fat non-homogenized milk (as that is what we drank back then), and craftily getting at the prized creamy layer that settled on top.

All of these thoughts on where our milk originates, and seeing the cows ambling on the lush hillsides of Petaluma, reminded me that we had not made any cheese for quite some time, something that had to be remedied posthaste.  So, early last Saturday morning, we set about the task of making a small batch of a mild and crumbly cheese known as Farmers' Cheese. We have made other cheeses in the past, some requiring several months until maturity, and much fussing and babying as they matured within their cloth bindings or wax coatings.  In contrast, this cheese can be eaten as early as the day it is made, although it tastes even better the following day.  I want to assure you that making deliciously fresh, home-made Farmers' Cheese is not as daunting as one would imagine, especially when considering the ingredients required to do so are readily found at the most basic of food markets; whole milk, white vinegar, salt and, optionally, some fresh herbs. Neither complex additions of enzymes and cultures are required, nor any special equipment besides a large pot, a kitchen colander and a square of muslin or cheesecloth.

To begin, a gallon of organic whole milk (never ultra pasteurized) is poured into a stainless steel pot and gently heated over a medium flame.  One must insure that the milk is continuously stirred so it does not scorch and stick to the bottom of the pot.

 Milk being transferred to the pot from our ceramic jug

Photo: Chronica Domus

 The milk is almost at a rolling boil

Photo: Chronica Domus

Just as soon as the milk reaches boiling point, immediately switch off the heat and stir in three quarters of a cup of white vinegar. There will be an immediate reaction to the vinegar and one will witness the magic of milk separating into its constituent curds and whey, a sight Miss Muffet would welcome.

 In goes the white vinegar

Photo: Chronica Domus

Miss Muffet would be proud

Photo: Chronica Domus

While the curds are being allowed to cool undisturbed for about twenty minutes, prepare a colander in a sink by lining it in a layer of muslin, or two layers of loose weave cheesecloth. By now, you should feel like a satisfied dairy farmer in your very own home kitcheen.  It is a gratifying feeling to discover that a gallon of milk, a little vinegar and some heat can produce approximately a full pound of cheese.

The next step in the process is to pour the curds into the colander to drain off the liquid, known as whey.

 Draining the curds of their whey

Photo: Chronica Domus

You will be left with a beautiful heap of fluffy white curds resembling something akin to the consistency of cottage cheese.

 The drained curds

Photo: Chronica Domus

To aid in further draining, remove the muslin from the colander, with the curds intact, and hang from a wooden spoon over your pot, as demonstrated in the photograph below.  Do resist the temptation to rush the process by squeezing the curds.

 The curds now hanging in their cheesecloth sack

Photo: Chronica Domus

Allow the muslin sack to drain for twenty minutes before removing it and placing the curds in a clean ceramic bowl.  Slowly add desired amount of salt.  We like to use kosher salt to flavor our cheese, but regular table salt will also suffice.  How much salt is added is dependent on your personal taste so do sample the cheese as you go along.

  Drained curds ready for salting

Photo: Chronica Domus

We enjoy all manner of cheeses in our household, from the very pinnacle of pungency, the great "king of cheeses" Stilton, to the delicate mildness of Fromage Blanc.  However, Farmers' Cheese is a mild and agreeable cheese indeed.  Once salted and allowed to firm up in a mold, it can be eaten as is, on grilled bread, or accompanied by seasonal berries as a delicious breakfast treat.  If like us you enjoy a little more flavor to your cheese, add some freshly chopped herbs to the curds and infuse them with a little more character. On this occasion, we added a bunch of fresh chopped chives, but other combinations of herbs work too. We have in the past experimented with parsley, thyme, and even caramelized roasted garlic.

 Chopped chives awaiting the curds

Photo: Chronica Domus

 Chives thoroughly distributed throughout the curds

Photo: Chronica Domus

Once you've added your herbs, brush a layer of olive oil to the inside surface of three small bowls (we used cereal-sized bowls for this task).  The oil will aid in the removal of the cheese once it has set and is ready to be served.  Fill the bowls with as much of the curd mixture as can fit, and then tamp it down to flatten the surface.  Line the cheese with a layer of plastic wrap, and set the bowls within your refrigerator allowing the curds to become firm and cold.

The cheese is tamped down into bowls

Photo: Chronica Domus

When you are ready to devour your culinary efforts, gently run a sharp knife around the cheese to loosen it from the bowl, and invert it onto a serving platter.  A trickle of good quality extra virgin olive oil, and a crack or two of the pepper mill will assure you of a satisfying hors d'oeuvre accompanied by a glass of wine and some grilled bread or crackers. I guarantee not a morsel will remain for dear Miss Muffet.

Won't you help yourself to a bite or three?

Photo: Chronica Domus

What a pleasurable experience it is to serve fresh cheese, made directly at one's kitchen stove, with milk that was locally produced by cows that have actually been allowed the freedom to graze on grass.  It gives one a taste of the ideal bucolic existence right in the heart of town. 

Have you tried your hand at cheese making or anything else that connects you to your nearby agricultural community?  Perhaps I've inspired you to make Farmers' Cheese?

A Whitewashed Garden

Wisteria tumbling over nasturtium leaves

Photo: Chronica Domus

There has been a frenzy of growing activity in the garden over the past few weeks which coincides with the warming temperature, the lengthening day and increased birdsong.  It is as though the landscape is suddenly awash in white.  Wherever I look, both high and low, there is a symphony of white unfurling in every corner of my garden.

 The wisteria beginning to flower, photographed February 25, 2014

Photo: Chronica Domus

One of the things I eagerly anticipate each March is the old wisteria as it faithfully awakens from its dormant winter slumber.  It is typically at its peak around March 15 and rarely a year goes by that it is not.  This year offered no exception, even as premature signs of spring had arrived as inconceivably early as January.  In that first February after buying our home, I was enthralled to have discovered the meandering bine covering the wooden structure, now serving as my potting area, was not in fact the expected, though beautiful, purple variety most commonly seen in our area.  It was instead a snowy white cultivar that provides a profusion of graceful hanging blooms to bedazzle the corner of my garden . What a lovely surprise indeed!  I was unaware that white existed in the world of wisteria.  Obviously, I had a lot to learn as a budding but curious gardener.

The wisteria in all its glory, photographed March 7, 2014

Photo: Chronica Domus

The Prunus salicina Santa Rosa is in full bloom and holds promise for a bumper crop of juicy plums later in the summer months.  I love to watch as the white petals are carried off by gentle breezes and drift to earth as though delicate snowflakes.  It is really rather magical.

 Future plums, if the bees assist

Photo: Chronica Domus

The cherry tree too is in bloom, as seen in the photographs that follow, set against brilliant blue skies.

 

Blossoms among the silvery bark of our cherry tree

Photo: Chronica Domus

Fingers crossed for a bumper cherry crop if these blossoms are any indication

Photo: Chronica Domus

The apple trees are just beginning to reveal their show of delicate fragrant blossoms. Some are touched by a tender blush pink color in their infancy.

Apple blossoms, blush colored prior to fully opening

Photo: Chronica Domus

The fragrance of these apple blossoms is divine

Photo: Chronica Domus

The narcissi are almost done blooming, but not quite.  Thalia, the purest of the white narcissi, have begun to unfurl beneath a small magnolia tree.  The graceful and demure drooping heads bob in the wind and resemble a flock of white doves in flight.  I have other white narcissi in my garden but these 1916 heirlooms hold no peer in terms of their beauty and grace, don't you agree?

Narcissi Thalia, among my favorite narcissi varieties

Photo: Chronica Domus

Oh, and look what I found peeking shyly from beneath the boxwood  This duo is Muscari botryoides Album, the white variety of the common grape hyacinth.  They reliably rear their milky heads just as the blue variety has concluded its performance, at least here in my garden.

Two Muscari botryoides Album

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During the evening, the scent of the scrambling and rambunctious star jasmine along the fence begins to saturate the air, especially on warmer nights.  I often catch myself, as I walk towards my home at the conclusion of my evening dog walk, sniffing the perfumed air and marveling at how the strong odor has wafted well beyond what one might assume to be the reach of such sweet and traveling fragrance.  If truth be told, it is almost cloying to the nostrils.

Star Jasmine; pretty with a cloying scent

Photo: Chronica Domus

Gardening is such a humbling experience, especially when little accidents of nature occur, such as when one ends up with a predominantly white landscape, quite unplanned but entirely appreciated.  I estimate that my whitewashed garden will remain this way for at least another month prior to the profusion of color that will follow.  No matter what we plant, of course, nature always has a way of telling us what works best.  Did you notice the plenitude of blue forget-me-nots hovering behind the Thalia narcissi within the photograph of same?  For now, it remains the sole plant contributing color among the snowy shades of white, and one that lays claim to its domain by self-seeding.  Perhaps next year, I should do as Prince Charles has done at one of his gardens at Highgrove, his country residence.  He cleverly conceived an extraordinary black and white garden with examples of the palette in bloom throughout the entire year.  His spring landscaping includes black tulips and grasses.  I can already envision them transforming my white spring garden next year. 

Is your garden an exercise in meticulous planning, or is it much like my own, an on-going haphazard experiment with hopes that something will grow and establish itself in a pleasing combination?