On Books and Reading

July 13, 2018August 21, 201823 Comments

I am writing this in the waiting room of the Eye Institute watching the computer board for my mother’s cataract surgery to be finished. Hospital technology has advanced to the state that you can now track the patient’s journey from pre-op to OR to recovery room, and then a volunteer will come and kindly escort you to your loved one’s bedside. I suppose it saves the nurses time not having to answer all those pesky questions. My mother has a particularly dense cataract which has been interfering with her ability to paint. (Most of the paintings on the website are hers, she is also under The Artist on the main menu). Claude Monet had the same problem in his later years, as his vision loss progressed his colors became more muted. (If you look at this paintings after the surgery the blue green colors are so vibrant). As a painter her eyes are important to her, as painting is her passion, while mine is reading. Both our hobbies are dependent on clear vision. A cataract is easily fixable, but some other eye conditions such as macular degeneration, are not. I hope someday medicine will have progressed to the point where they will be able to implant stem cells into eyes and restore vision. What a miracle that would be for those facing vision loss. You hear a lot of tragic stories in the waiting rooms of eye clinics like these, but these doctors, they are the unsung heroes.

Not being able to read would be the worst nightmare for me. I know there are audio books but I want a book in my hand. I don’t remember ever not being able to read, although I have a vague recollection of taking one of those Dick-Jane-and-Sally-see-Spot-run books to my mother and proudly showing her I could read by myself. The letters made sense, they were words! It was a momentous discovery.

I read vicariously and from an early age. I started school in a rural one room school house, and as there were only three of us in grade one, I listened in while the very frazzled teacher taught the older grades. It seems archaic now but I suppose it isn’t much different than home schooling, all ages together. Our farm was within walking distance of the school but after it closed in grade two (it was archaic even then), my parents drove us into town to the Catholic school until the bus service was started a few years later. One of my earliest recollections is sitting at the dining room table while my mother helped my older siblings with their homework. I would sit and soak it all in. To me learning was fun, a whole new adventure.

I always loved books. My maternal grandmother immigrated from Holland so English was a second language for her. Her verbal English was good, her reading not so much, and I, a precarious four-year-old, would correct her if she strayed too far from the story-line or the ending wasn’t the way it normally was. When the teacher assigned a short story to read in the grade five reader, (a Stephen Leacock tale about Mother’s Day), I took the reader home and read the whole book. I read the usual children’s books, Black Beauty, Heidi, Pippi Longstocking, The Five Little Peppers and How they Grew, a series called the Borrowers which involved tiny people living in a big house, and the rare treat of a Jack and Jill magazine once when I was in the hospital for tonsils, which was full of puzzles and activities. Around age ten I went through a Trixie Belden girl detective phase, (no Nancy Drew for me, it was the sixties, who would wear a twinset even if they did get to drive a convertible). Living on a farm with few playmates, I read for entertainment. It was something to do in the summer, and as I was not good at sports and hated the heat, you could usually find me on a blanket in the shade of a tree reading. As a middle child I was accustomed to being on the periphery, but I could always be found somewhere with my nose in a book. When the library opened my mother would take myself and my younger brother every Saturday (after his hockey game and penny candy treats), and I would stock up on books for the following week. The library was one of the few air conditioned buildings in town and I still remember the blast of cool air that hit you when you entered the vestibule, and the musty smell of books. The librarian would often comment on my choices, because while our little library stocked picture books for kids and adult fiction, the selection for Young Adults, if that genre even existed, was limited…. perhaps only L.M. Montgomery (I read the whole Anne series) and Louisa May Alcott (like many girls Jo was my heroine). And so I read the classics, Dickens, the Brontes, my mother’s copy of Gone With the Wind, what ever I could get my hands on. Occasionally, when I would come across a Young Adult book, I would find it fascinating reading about teens my own age. Several of those books stand out clearly in my mind, although I can’t recall the titles, one in particular about a young girl going to work at a summer resort. I’m picturing bonfires on the beach right now. If you lived an isolated life without a driver’s license, those literary ventures into a normal teenage world (parties, boys, jobs), can seem memorable. Once I was in high school I discovered Seventeen magazine (50 cents an issue), and it became my fashion bible, and then later Mademoiselle and Glamour. Although I read it for the clothes, magazines used to publish short stories back then and I read my mother’s Good Housekeeping and Redbook magazines for that reason as well as her condensed Reader’s Digest books.

Vintage June 1970 Seventeen Magazine – from farmhouse attic

I was one of the few students who didn’t groan about doing book reports, because it gave you an excuse to read a book. I would read on the bus ride home, although often I would get all my homework done then too.

During my university and early work years, I hardly read at all, only scientific stuff – it was hard to keep up with the sheer volume of information, between work terms and school. I only picked up reading again as a hobby at around age thirty, and then it was mostly vacation/beach reading. Throughout my working years I read at least a couple of books a month, mostly before bed instead of watching TV, or after I got home if I was working evenings and needed to wind down. (There are entire decades of TV I have missed, although lately I have developed a taste for anything Masterpiece). I am still an avid reader but now that I am retired, it’s more like one per week, and reading has crept into the daytime hours. Reading outside on the swing in the summer is pure bliss. I used to have a hammock where I read but the trees had to be cut down due to ash-bore disease.

My taste in books runs to more mainstream with a few eclectic choices. I tend to haunt the best seller and new release lists, and recommendations from friends with similar tastes. I avoid the Danielle Steele romance genre (romance is okay if it’s part of the story, but not the whole point), sci-fi fantasy, most Canadian prize-winners (too weird), and the majority of Oprah’s book club selections. I don’t like too light and fluffy but I don’t want depressing either. I enjoy fact as well as fiction, lately my choices have ranged from First They Killed My Father, a Cambodian refugee memoir, Quiet, a fascinating must-read for introverts, to The Sleep Solution (see Counting Sheep blog), and I still love a good medical book such as Five Days at Memorial, a tale of evacuating a hospital post Katrina.

I often try to work a book I particularly enjoyed into my blogs if it suits the theme, and sometimes it serves as the inspiration. Lately I have been reading a lot of mystery thrillers and a few months ago I discovered the bookoutlet website, wandered into the travel section and never left, (see April Paris and Italy blogs). I have my favorite authors, Jodi Piccoult, Cathy Kelly, Elin Hildebrand, John Grisham, Mary Higgins Clark, Clare MacIntosh, and often pre-order from the library so I can be number one on the list. The bookoutlet is a discount website (both US and Canadian sites), for remaindered or overstock books with very cheap prices. Recently I ordered eleven books for $102, (free shipping over $45), which came Canada Post. There’s nothing like getting a big box of books in the mail – and isn’t there something wonderful about opening a brand new book and inhaling the scent of newly cut paper.

There have been a few times in my life when I have been too stressed to read – I could not concentrate on the words on the page, but luckily those were few and far between. Reading can be a distraction, a solace, a balm for over-stressed minds, a portal to another universe, when this one is too hard to bear. That is why one of the most often requested items in a refuge camp is a book. It passes the time and takes you away to some other universe, if only for a few quiet hours.

A book journal is a lovely way to keep track of your reads, although I am not always diligent about recording the authors and the dates.

Old Book Journal

The editor of the New York Times Book Review, Pamela Paul, wrote a book about her book journal (My Life with Bob – my Book of Books – click here for my review). I used to keep my own BOB/book journal but lately I have been recording my reads on my Good-reads profile. It you aren’t familiar with it, Good-reads is like a candy store for bookaholics. To quote L.M. Montgomery, “I am simply a book drunkard,” with no wish to recover.

Recently I found a new book journal with a lovely lavender cover on a remainder table, a bargain at $2.99. A lavender pen would be just the thing for writing in it. There is something about holding a book in your hand…

Quotes of the Day: “I opened up two wonderful gifts this morning – my eyes.”

“Oh for a book, and a cozy nook, Oh for a quiet hour.”

What was your favorite childhood book? What are you reading now? What is the best book you read last year? Please leave a comment if you wish.

The Potager

June 5, 2018June 5, 201820 Comments

A potager is a French term for a kitchen garden. Because of my intention to take a break from all things floral, (see the Danger Zone blog), I decided my gardening project for this year would be a vegetable garden. Flowers are pretty to look at but hopefully this will be a more productive endeavor, with the end result being healthier meals to enjoy plus the added fun of growing my own food. Who doesn’t like the convenience of a salad freshly picked from their own garden?

Mandarin salad with raspberry vinaigrette

My first foray into vegetable gardening was last summer as I had bought a raised garden bed and started with some romaine lettuce and two strawberry plants,

plus twelve tomato plants, obviously way too many for such a small space, as a Tomato Jungle (see Sept blog) quickly ensued.

So needing more space, last fall I bought three more raised garden beds at the New England Arbor Charity sale (75% off, $25 each) and after dumping seventy bags of $1 dirt and compost into them, they were the regular price. Never underestimate how much dirt a 4X4 square can hold, or how quickly it can settle. I placed them in the sunniest spot in my yard, but the aroma of lilacs in the back corner is an added perk.

I am not completely unfamiliar with gardens. Growing up on a farm (the homeplace), we always had a large vegetable garden. It was a way of life back then, as anyone whoever spent the hot summer months canning and preserving can testify, plus it was a healthy and cheap way to feed a family. The farm garden was always planted in the cornfield closest to the house for easy access, spread out among the rows of corn, so as not to waste precious corn acreage. It was never planted until the first of June when the danger of a late frost was over. Sometimes we would help my dad plant it, he dug the holes, and we put the seeds in and covered them up with dirt, but other than that I don’t remember it being any work, it just grew. We didn’t weed or water it as it was in the cornfield, mother nature did the rest. It had the usual garden staples, tomatoes, cucumbers, yellow beans, sweet corn, squash plus pumpkins for Halloween. The beans and tomatoes were canned, and my mother made dill pickles with the cucumbers. Many a hot August day, in the years before air conditioning, I would wake and go downstairs to find rows of inverted mason jars covered with tea towels on the kitchen counter-top, as my mom would have been up early to can in the cool of the morning. Later they would be moved to pantry shelves in the basement. I don’t remember eating the canned goods, (as a child I was a picky eater), but I recall my parents having the stewed tomatoes with onions and a fried steak, and we would always have the sweet corn in August, slathered with butter. So, I had great ambitions for my little white squares and visions of a bountiful harvest.

Last year I had bought two ever-bearing strawberry plants and had berries right up until October, (what a wonderful idea, why didn’t someone think of that sooner), that is if the birds didn’t get them first. So this year I bought two more, but covered them up with garden netting. A few days ago, a big black ugly starling lured by the sight of all those green berries, managed to get under the netting, and in a mad flapping panic tried to get out through the chicken wire. I undid the top netting, but the stupid bird still couldn’t find it’s way out, so I turned the garden hose on it and sprayed it (gently, on shower not jet) towards the opening. Bet it doesn’t try that again! (I could understand a little brown sparrow or a hummingbird getting in but a starling the size of a crow? It must have been part of the Cirque du Soleil acrobat team).

Into the same bed, went some romaine and red leaf lettuce. Lately I have been buying red leaf lettuce at the grocery store, but it is also nice to mix the two. The romaine I grew last summer was the best I had ever tasted, or maybe it just seemed that way as I grew it myself. Because I had these in early before the holiday weekend, they are almost ready for picking. Hopefully, they will regrow after, but I intend to fill in two of the other squares with some more in a few weeks to stagger the crop.

Into the second square went the tomato plants, big fat Beefsteak for sandwiches and smaller Roma for salads. I gave up on those tasteless little cherry tomatoes, you can buy those year round in the store, but a big fat home-grown tomato has a distinctive taste and aroma and is a truly wonderful thing.

Into the third square went two rows of carrots, because they are good for your eyesight, one orange, and one multi-coloured. I imagine they will look pretty curled on a salad like in the food magazines.

I am hoping these bunnies aren’t high jump Olympic champions in fence hopping.

Somebunny is waiting for me to plant the carrots.

Also, into that square went three seed potatoes, barely breaking ground now but at least they made it. My dad never grew potatoes, perhaps lingering ancestral memories of the Irish potato famine, so I have no experience with growing potatoes. Maybe I will get enough for a potato salad?

Into the fourth square went my Acorn squash for Thanksgiving, (not butternut as most people prefer), plus one cucumber plant designed for small gardens, so hopefully it won’t sprawl too much.

I did not plant any radishes, because my memories of the farm were the radishes were always way too hot and/or tough depending on the rainfall, nor butter beans as you can buy those in the store cheap and they are often tough as well. My mother often planted gladioli and zinnias in her farm garden, but I have had zero luck with zinnias, although I do have glads planted along the back fence. What I planted seemed like enough for a first-time endeavor – I am looking forward to the harvest. (Next week I will tell you about a new way to cook all your nutritious produce, in my blog, Under Pressure, Instant-Pot for Beginners).

Lately, I have been neglecting my book recommends. This book, In Defense of Food, by Michael Pollan, plus his first book, An Omnivore’s Dilemma really changed how I think about food and eating. Perhaps a bit out of date now, with the current popularity of the high protein Paleo diets, but it made me really stop and think twice before eating any processed food. Much better to eat food in as natural a state as possible, and for those who don’t want to grow their own food, the farmer’s markets are now open!

In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto by Michael Pollan

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

“Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.” Simple words that changed my eating habits ten years ago when I first read this book, or at least made me stop and think first. Don’t eat anything your Grandmother wouldn’t recognize as food. Also wise words. This book provides an interesting history and peek into the multi-million dollar processed food industry – what started out as an attempt in the fifties to make food better and healthier and last longer, has backfired so that we now have transfats, plasticizers and softeners in our bread and fast food burgers which never decompose. Certainly an eye-opener – you may never eat the same way again.

The Danger Zone

May 17, 2018May 17, 201812 Comments

May really is the merriest month, and if you are a gardener, no matter what zone you live in, it can also be the most dangerous time of year. The garden centers are starting to bring in their flats of summer annuals and hanging baskets.

Visit any nursery anywhere and everything is a riot of color. The petunias are looking all perky and pretty in their spring finery,

: Pink petunias

their vivid colors saying buy me, buy me….but beware! They require commitment….lots of commitment. This year I intend to save myself a summer of watering and weeding and fertilizing and deadheading and just say no. I will not succumb, I will be strong.

I am at the point in my gardening life where taking care of plants has become burdensome. I enjoyed it when I was working, although I did not always have the time and my flowers suffered for it. It was a respite to dig in dirt on my days off, a mindless occupation which did not require too much thought. One year I had eleven hanging baskets, (what was I thinking), and twenty rose and hydrangea bushes I was trying to get started, but it was too hot to water at ten in the morning when I got up, and it was dark when I returned home from work. But that was also the year my plants looked their best, because I gave up and hired someone in the neighborhood to water them.

: Pink Geraniums in September

It finally got too expensive, (it was a drought year), but I must admit it was a joy to have hanging baskets still vibrant in late September, instead of raggedy, dried out and dead by the end of July.

Paradoxically, now that I am retired and have more time, I am starting to consider gardening a chore and I don’t think I am alone in this. A few years ago I found an abandoned garden cart at the side of the road, (which I brought home and spray painted lime green to hide the sunflower yellow).

: Rescued lime green wrought iron cart

My idea was to get some of the pots up off the ground and out of reach of the bunnies which had multiplied like crazy that year. The homeowner told me to take it, it was free. She even delivered it so desperate was she to get it out of her sight. Having to water all those pots was just too much trouble when they were busy travelling all summer. I didn’t understand at the time, (a few pots?) but now I do.

At this stage in my gardening life I’d much rather read about gardening than do it. I’m ready to leave the pretty plants to someone else, not to mention the sweat and hard work, and live vicariously through someone else’s planting adventures. This gardening book Elizabeth and her German Garden, was first published in 1898 but is still timeless today. (see Enchanted April blog for more about the author).
Elizabeth and Her German Garden by Elizabeth von Arnim

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A bestseller when it was first released in 1898, this book remains a gardening classic. Of course back then there were the necessary servants and gardeners to do all the hard work, still it remains an entertaining read, and proof that the love of gardening never changes.

Luckily, most of the things in my yard, are easy care – roses and hydrangeas and peonies and lilacs. I like all the old-fashioned flowers our grandmothers had. I have mostly pinks, (double pink Knock-Out roses around both front and back decks), some lavenders (French and English and Rose of Sharon) and a few blues (hydrangeas if the soil cooperates and some struggling delphiniums). I like the look of an English garden with tall waving blooms, (so Downton Abbeyish), but have not had much success with this scheme. Phlox, not good, lupines, disappeared, foxglove awaiting judgement. This year I intend to buy flower seedlings at the farmer’s market as I realized last year they had a better selection and were much cheaper than the nurseries.

Plants can be divided into high maintenance (those that whine please deadhead me, fertilize me, give me a drink), and low maintenance, (those that can take care of themselves). Lavender is as low maintenance as it gets, (it loves drought), plus it’s cheap and smells wonderful.

: Lavender in a blue pot

Heather is also supposed to be a hardy plant, so after spying some flowering on a neighbors lawn while out for an early spring walk, I purchased a ten dollar pot and plopped it in the ground. Odds are it will end up neglected but I’m having visions of Heathcliff and the moors next spring…..

The other reason for not buying as much this year is the price – it just gets too expensive, so I will be haunting the plant sales. When the horticultural society holds its annual plant sale for two dollars, I’ll be there. I’ll even get out of bed early before the best ones are gone. (Well I was there by noon and got six pots of purple and yellow iris, a few bluebells and a twig they said was a Rose of Sharon which I suspect might already be dead, but all for a grand total of six dollars, everything is half price after noon, another reason not to get out of bed).

Impatiens have fallen out of favor here due to a widespread blight, but they have now come out with a hardier strain, so last year I did my own hanging baskets with a flat from a popup nursery and the end result was cheap and cheerful.

The only seeds I usually plant are blue morning glories along the back fence, which almost always put on a glorious show, although they can be very late in the year, (see A Glorious September Morning blog), and this year I’m going to try wildflowers again.

Although I don’t expect it will look like the meadow on the front of the seed packet, I did have some luck one year and it was an inexpensive solution for a poorly drained back corner. Last year I put in glads for the first time, and dug up the bulbs in the fall, but they were pulpy looking when I took them out of storage, so they will need to be replaced.

: Gladioli and Impatiens

But I plan on limiting myself to four baskets of geraniums from the garden centers, two for the front urns, and two for the back deck, no more…..fingers crossed.

: Pink geraniums

My only splurge will be a yellow with pink centre hibiscus bush, because it looks so exotic like the tropics, and my neighbor got one last year but I always seem to be behind on the garden trends.

One year I bought a bougainvillea plant,

: Bougainvillea on it’s best behavior

lured by it’s vivid pinkness, but I do not live in the right zone for tropical plants. It overwintered indoors fine the first year, and even bloomed in February but then it got all spindly and shed until it was moved south to the garbage bin.

So goodbye, farewell, annuals at the garden centre.

I hope you find a good home somewhere else….stay strong!

Progress report to date: 8 hollyhocks at farmers market $3 total, horticultural society plant sale iris & twig $6, one pot of campanula because it looked so purple but when I went to plant it the entire head of flowers fell off ($5 wasted),

six pots of lavender ($3.50 each to replace the ones which didn’t survive our harsh winter),

and my regular bright pink geraniums ($14) which came in a pink pot this year. Why didn’t someone think of matching colored pots sooner instead of those boring taupe things?

The Resistance: a Pink Knock-Out Rose Tree which at $99 is difficult to justify as I already have lots of $20 rose bushes, but there is a bare spot in one corner…..

The Debate: this years hibiscus flavor – Fiesta? Maybe if it goes on sale….

Postscript: The best gardener of all, and the cheapest, is good old Mother Nature!

Enchanted April

April 24, 2018April 24, 201922 Comments

“To those who appreciate wisteria and sunshine. Small medieval Italian castle on the shores of the Mediterranean to be let furnished for the month of April. Necessary servants remain. Z, Box 1000, The Times.”

Despite being written almost a hundred years ago the book, The Enchanted April, is just as enchanting today. Four very different women, all unknown to each other in dreary post WW1 Britain, answer an ad for an Italian villa. Two are married but taken for granted by their husbands, one is single and beautiful but tired of grabby men, and one is a widow facing a sad lonely old age. They have nothing in common other than they are starved for beauty and love, and for the fresh air and sunshine of the Italian coast.

Italian Villa – 2015

I watched the movie first, before I read the book, which is what I would recommend. The movie is from 1992 and while film quality has improved tremendously since then, it is still a lovely period drama, (and if I’m ever reincarnated I want to come back with straight black bobbed hair).

My Good-reads review:

The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I absolutely loved this book, but I had watched the movie first. A timeless tale with a lovely story line and such vivid descriptions of flowers, gardens and beautiful countryside that you almost felt like you were there.
I ordered the book because it is one of those timeless classics you simply have to own. It was a bestseller in it’s day, 1923, and was based on a month long trip the author, Elizabeth von Arnim, made with her husband to the village of Portofino, Italy, which soon became a famous tourist destination because of the success of the book. They stayed at the Castello Brown, (now a museum), which is where the movie was filmed seventy years later.

It’s such a charming story, that it might inspire you to grab three of your girlfriends and go off on your own Italian adventure. Who wouldn’t want to live la dolce vita?

Tuscan Villa – 2015

Of course in the book the villa came complete with all the necessary servants, so hiring a chef to do the cooking would be the sensible thing to do. (You could invite Amal for tea, she’s British and may be in need of a cuppa and a break from the bambinos). Isn’t that part of the attraction of period pieces, there was always someone to prepare the meals, wash the dishes, care for the children…..and look after the garden.

It’s not surprising that there were such lovely descriptions of the flowers and grounds in the book, as the author’s first bestseller was Elizabeth and Her German Garden in 1898. I have not read that one yet, as I plan on reading it outside on the deck whenever it gets warm enough, as inspiration for gardening season. But I did read her book, The Solitary Summer, last summer which I enjoyed also, which concerned her need for solitude and beauty in the countryside with her April, May and June babies. Her first best seller was published anonymously, and the subsequent ones as by the author of Elizabeth and Her German Garden. Because these books are old and often out of print they are best ordered online.

Perhaps there is something about being in such a lovely setting that inspires love. In the book their husbands became more appreciative, although no one runs off and has an affair, (it was a more decorous time), well only the single one. I remember reading once in a book on Italy about a medical condition called, Stendhal’s Syndrome, which is an emotional reaction to too much loveliness. A handful of tourists are treated for this every year in Florence, having been overwhelmed by an excess of beauty. Finally a medical condition we can all aspire too! Of course we don’t have to go to Italy to experience beauty in our lives – it is all around us, we just have to pay attention. Is it possible to surround yourself with an excess of loveliness, especially in a world which so often seems full of evil, hate, and ugliness? Perhaps not, but it is an admirable goal to choose to focus on what is lovely in the world, and so much better for your health! Buona giornata!

Quote of the Day: “It is their manners as a whole, their natural ways, bonhomie, the great art of being happy which is here practiced with this added charm, that the good people do not know that it is an art, the most difficult of all.” (Stendhal on Italy)

Song of the Day: April Love by Pat Boone

April in Paris – Part Two

April 12, 2018March 25, 20199 Comments

Paris – the City of Love. How many romantic movies begin and end there, complete with visions of strolling along the Seine beneath the chestnut trees with your amour. Continuing our Parisian theme (see April in Paris – Part One) with some bibliotherapy for the Francophile may I present a book that is simply enchante. A Paris Year – by Janice MacLeod (My Good-reads review below)

A Paris Year: My Day-to-Day Adventures in the Most Romantic City in the World by Janice Macleod

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Janice MacLeod’s first book, Paris Letters, chronicled her Paris adventures after she quit her job, sold everything she owned and moved to the City of Light. This sequel, A Paris Year, is more like a personal journal of her year there, full of photos and illustrations, (she is a watercolor artist). The cover alone is gorgeous, and the pages are a visual treat. While there, she acquired a French husband who just nodded when she told him she was making a pretty book about Paris, and that’s exactly what it is. Should be required reading for anyone contemplating a trip to Paris, so they know what to expect, and for the rest of us who only dream. A charming, thoroughly enjoyable book.

I noticed this book in the bookstore because of it’s beautiful cover, (one of the author’s watercolor paintings),

: A Paris Year – Janice MacLeod

but at $35 Cdn plus tax, decided to order it through the library instead, but I enjoyed it so much I bought it. Although I had read her earlier book Paris Letters it didn’t grab my attention the way this one did. Perhaps because I thought the ending was too pat, in a we-must-have-a-happy-ending for the book way (there is a wedding picture of her and her French husband on the last page), but then I felt the same way about Eat Pray Love, and look how that turned out, despite a subsequent book on staying Committed. It is wise to be skeptical of a relationship where two people don’t speak the same language and don’t seem to have anything in common (ah yes, but love is not always wise, and as the song says, is for the very young), but frankly as an older more cynical person I was worried about her. An exception would be Colin Firth in Love Actually, who learned Portuguese so he could communicate with his new love, but I think we might all learn The King’s Speech if Colin Firth was involved. There is an admirable degree of bravery in wanting a different life and doing something about it, but when you are older you realize there doesn’t always have to be a guy at the end for it to be a happy ending. Just once I would like one of these memoir travel type books to end with the author just sitting Under the Tuscan sun, gazing contentedly at the gorgeous view…..and if the gorgeous view happened to include your own Colin Firth that would be okay too! (I think I shall write it myself – “Our middle-aged (but well preserved due to French beauty secret), heroine-in-waiting is sitting on the terrace of her French villa on a soft summer evening, a glass of chilled Chablis in hand, contemplating the calming rows of lavender waving in the evening breeze and thinking how lucky she is to be here in the lovely light of Provence….

: Provence Lavender Farm – 2017

…when suddenly she observes a man walking up the lane.” The End.

Is it a) a lost tourist b) the vin delivery garcon c) a uniformed police detective or d) Mr. Darcy. The answer is e) all of the above. Stay tuned for the sequel, Murder in Provence, wherein our lovely heroine meets Inspector Darcie LeDuc, who is investigating a series of murders involving art thieves, wine merchants and lost tourists, with plenty of dead bodies sprinkled in the lavender fields and vineyards. Will she be next?)

But I digress (badly), enough about fairy tale endings, forever after and just for the moment. I am glad it all worked out for them because they are now living in the Canadian Rocky Mountains. (link to her website Paris Letters Press) She has a very nice website and also paints and writes a monthly personal letter on Paris which she sends out via snail mail, a business which enabled her to finance her stay there. In the About section she says her first book was about her move to Paris, but her second is about being an artist in Paris, which is one of the reasons I liked it so much. It was just like being there – there were lots of photographs and quirky journal entries about her cafe observations and day to day life in the city. Plus her paintings were charming, but then I am partial to watercolors.

A page from A Paris Year – Janice MacLeod

It is a lovely book visually speaking, an illustrated journal on good quality paper with a beautiful cover, in the same vein as the Susan Branch books on Martha’s Vineyard and England. (if you are not familiar with Susan Branch check her out, her blogs are so inspirational and she is currently blogging on her trip to Cornwall and England). I suspect that type of book, which is basically a hard cover blog, is expensive for a publishing company to produce which could be why Susan Branch now publishes her own. Anyway, both are good reads for armchair travelers.

I split this blog into two, because someone told me my blogs are too long, and the April Love section seemed like it deserved it’s own topic. Does anyone remember the fragrance, Evening in Paris? One of the most popular fragrances in the fifties, it was a light floral fragrance in a blue cobalt bottle (you can still find some of the bottles on e-bay), evoking images of l’heure bleue in the city of love. I have a visual image of my mother wearing her Jackie Kennedy-like sapphire blue dress and beads, dabbing perfume behind her ears, and then bending down to give us red lipstick kisses on our arms, on the rare occasion she went out in the evening. Somehow spraying perfume doesn’t have the same degree of glamour. Last year while cleaning out my mother’s house I came across a bottle of French perfume stashed below the bathroom sink.

Vintage French Perfume – Chat Noir

My mother says it was a gift from my father in the early years of their marriage, which would make it over 60 years old. When I opened it, it still had the sweet smell she remembered, as it had been kept in a cloth bag, in a dark spot, the way you should store expensive perfume. A perfume can evoke an era, a love story, a moment in time. It reminded me of Bogie’s promise to Bacall, we’ll always have Paris. Here’s to romance – may you always have a small piece of Paris in your heart to reminisce about on starry nights.

Postscript: In my university days I wore Je Reviens, and later in my 20’s and 30’s Ombre Rose, then I mostly abandoned perfume because so many places, work and social, have no-scent laws now. My bottle of Ombre Rose from three years ago is still half full. Do you wear perfume, and do you have a favorite scent, or a scent that reminds you of a certain time in your life?

April in Paris – Part One

April 5, 2018April 12, 201825 Comments

Move to Paris…..learn French….write a book. Who hasn’t had that dream someday. Even if we can’t go there ourselves, we can still read about other people’s trips in the delightful little book, A Paris All Your Own. My Good-reads review below.

A Paris All Your Own: Bestselling Women Writers on the City of Light by Eleanor Brown

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is an engaging little book of essays about Paris by women writers who have been there, mostly to research their Paris-based books, and like the title says, each one has their own story, some good, some bad, but all are different. I appreciated the honesty of those who said they didn’t enjoy Paris all that much, as it has always been a dream destination of mine and now I don’t feel quite so bad about what I am missing. Expectations are best kept realistic to avoid disappointment…but can anything ever live up to the romantic promise of Paris? I particularly enjoyed the biographies at the end of each section, as I picked up some new authors and books to explore, and their advice on what to see and what to skip will be valuable if I ever do get there some day.

While I was familiar with some of the authors in this book, for example Paula McLean of The Paris Wife, (a novel about Hadley Hemingway), there are some new ones I can add to my to-read list. I appreciated their candor – while most enjoyed their trips, one went home two weeks early, one had children who were bored, one’s mother-daughter trip didn’t quite turn out as planned, another just wanted to be left alone to write and declined all invitations to socialize in her writer’s residence. I could sympathize with that, when you are in the flow you hate interruptions even if the distraction is Paris! (If Hemingway had done more writing and less socializing he might have kept his first wife). One writer mentioned that April is not the best month to visit Paris. It rains a lot, she said, May is better, but the chestnut trees are out in April and then there is that song.

I cannot travel at the moment, and my French is abysmal. Although Canada is a bilingual country, (we have two official languages so everything is written in both), the reality is most people outside of the province of Quebec do not speak it, and Quebecois french is different than Paris french. My french is limited to the back of the cereal box. My education consisted of twenty minutes of french twice a week in grades 7 & 8, mostly concerning the Leduc family – Madame and Monsieur LeDuc and their enfant terrible, Henri. I recall they were always scolding their chien, so I would know to be careful when walking in the streets, (non chien scooping laws). They seemed to eat plenty of gateau, so I could probably navigate my way around a confectionaire/pâtisserie too. My accent was horrible so I abandoned la LeDuc famille in high school as soon as I could. Today if you want your child to learn french you send them to a french immersion ecole, a much more sensible method.

While I have no dreams of being Hemingway, I would like to visit Shakespeare & Company as bookstores are my thing, and that stationary store (Melodies Graphiques) mentioned in the book sounds divine too, a whole store devoted to paper and pens and different colored inks. Some day I hope to visit Paris, and see all the famous paintings, eat bread, take a boat trip along the Seine and visit Monet’s garden. One of the things about my mother’s late-in-life art career is she is too old to travel and see all the art museums. You should do your traveling when you are young and poor like Hemingway. (Quote: “There is never any ending to Paris and the memory of each person who has lived in it differs from that of any other. We always returned to it no matter who we were or how it was changed or with what difficulties, or ease, it could be reached. Paris was always worth it and you received return for whatever you brought to it. But this is how Paris was in the early days when we were very poor and very happy.”) Then later you can write your memoirs and become rich and famous, if you are very lucky.

We can’t all be as famous as Hemingway but we can all write a little something, a blog or a journal or a book, (and we don’t have to move to Paris to do it). I am sure there were times when Hemingway wondered if what he was writing would ever be of interest to anyone, but it is helpful to remember that there is always someone out there reading. And even if that person is only yourself, you are documenting your life, in the same manner as Janice MacLeod did while in Paris (see Part Two next week).

One of the nice things about blogging is you can find a blog about anything that interests you anywhere in the world. In my Word-press travels I have discovered two wonderful blogs on Paris and France.

https://adventuresofananglaise.com/ an English ex-pat’s blog on her adventures in Paris (for armchair travelers to the City of Lights)

https://chomeusewithachou.wordpress.com/ unemployed with a cabbage/tot – tales of family life in France (Jane Austen is reincarnated and living in rural France)

Au revoir mon cheris….until next week….Part Deux

Song of the Day: Andrea Bocelli – La Vie en Rose

Quote of the Day: “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.” (Ernest Hemingway – A Moveable Feast)

Eiffel Tower – Feb 2018

An Interview with Jane Austen

February 8, 2018October 24, 202021 Comments

I’m a Jane Austen fan. Although I would not consider myself a Janeite, whenever a new book comes out about her life I’m sure to check it out. Recently I saw this one, Jane Austen at Home, on the new releases list, and reviewed it on Goodreads.

Jane Austen at Home by Lucy Worsley

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Can there be such a thing as a bad book about Jane Austen – no. Even though we know every detail of her story, and there is really nothing new to be discovered about her life, (excepting the photo of the blue and white egg cup excavated at the Steventon Rectory), Austen fans still find any new book about her fascinating. This is a particularly satisfying read as it focuses more on her quest for a home – after all she is the author who wrote “There’s nothing like staying home for real comfort.” Of course, there are the usual biographical facts, literary and otherwise, seeming to focus more on her personal life, including her five marriage proposals, thus dispelling the myth that she was a lonely old spinster. (Really the woman was so intelligent as to be intimidating, and would she have been happy with any of them?) There is a satisfying number (40 pages or so) of footnotes, always a sign of a good biography, and some photographs, including said egg cup. A lovely read for commemorating the two hundredth anniversary of her death – we remain as captivated as ever.

A friend gave me The Wit and Wisdom of Jane Austen, (edited by Joelle Herr), for Christmas as she knew I was a fan, and it is full of her famous quotes and observations. Pride and Prejudice is my favorite Austen book, and then Emma, but some of the others I must admit I have never read, although I have seen the movie versions. It is her life that I find most intriguing. I often find authors lives to be as or sometimes more interesting than their books, (check out Margaret Mitchell’s biography for parallels to Gone with The Wind, the character of Rhett Butler was thought to be based on her first husband and Ashley Wilkes on her second). If you are a writer, you want to know where they got their ideas. Due to the lack of media back then and the passage of time we have little to base our conclusions upon, and baring someone discovering a cache of old letters in their great house, there is nothing new under the sun about Jane Austen, but we still can’t get enough of her life. She remains a puzzle, an enigma, we want to figure her out. A fellow blogger asked me which historical figure I would most like to interview, and my answer was Jane. And so, as Jane said, indulge your imagination in every possible flight.

An Interview with Jane Austen

Welcome to the BBC show, Portal to the Past. We would like to welcome renowned British author, Jane Austen. Even though she has been dead for over two hundred years she has been gracious enough to grant us this exclusive interview, and we thank her for the opportunity, because two centuries later we remain as fascinated by her as ever. (Cue opening pianoforte music link). Jane enters, wearing a white flowing Stella McCarthy gown, because a woman can never be too fine while she is all in white. (Camera man sighs, white is not good for the camera, adjusts lighting).

Host: Welcome Jane. Would you like some tea?

Jane: (demurely declines refreshments. She doesn’t want to smear her lipstick – imagine lipstick! Something to make your lips ruby-red and kiss-worthy. She wonders if she’ll get a free swag bag from Sephora).

Host: I’m so glad you could join us today.

Jane: There is nothing like staying home for real comfort, but if adventures will not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek them abroad.

Host: Did you ever imagine when you were sitting at your little writing table in Chawton Cottage, scribbling away about three or four families in a country village, that your novels would still be read two hundred years later?

Jane: (smiles sweetly) Alas, it is only a novel… or, in short, some work in which the greatest powers of the mind are displayed, in which the most thorough knowledge of human nature, the happiest delineation of its varieties, the liveliest effusions of wit and humor are conveyed to the world in the best chosen language.

Host: Did you ever dream that you would become so famous?

Jane: I have no talent for certainty, but I always had a quiet confidence in my abilities. The fame though was quite unexpected, though slight initially it has now has grown to such proportions that I find myself adorning the ten pound note. (blushes modestly). Pictures of perfection make me sick and wicked. I lay the blame on my nephew for that biography he penned. Fame can be a double-edged sword, for regrettably I have now lost all privacy, and sometimes when I want to pay a visit to Chawton Cottage, there are too many tourists milling about.

Host: (surprised) Are you saying you haunt your old sites?

Jane: I do enjoy dropping by occasionally, but the tourists, their fashion choices are really quite beyond comprehension. It would be mortifying to the feelings of many ladies, could they be made to understand how little the heart of man is affected by what is costly or new in their attire, but still…yoga pants and t-shirts. (shakes head, and thinks silently, for what do we live, but to make sport of our neighbors, and laugh at them in our turn.) Chawton House was my only true home and I was very content there. Sometimes I like to sit at my little desk and recollect….or I might visit the kitchen if the new cook is on, because as you know good apple pies were a considerable part of our domestic happiness. As for my childhood home there is nothing remaining, although I read that a blue and white egg cup was discovered recently in an excavation at Steventon Rectory, but it wasn’t mine, it was Cassandra’s. An egg cup – really! Which of all my important nothings shall I tell you first. It seems like a fair bit of nonsense that people would be interested in such things, but that is the price of fame. One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other.

Host: Are you aware of how many copies of your books have sold, 20 million of Pride and Prejudice alone?

Jane: Yes it’s quite astonishing to be so immortal, but I wish I had the royalties. A single woman with a narrow income must be a ridiculous, disagreeable old maid, the proper sport of boys and girls; but a single woman of good fortune is always respectable, and may be as sensible and pleasant as anybody else.

Host: That portrait of you in the National Gallery, is it a fair likeness, because I’m not seeing too much of a resemblance? (it might be the makeup and hair blowout, thinks to self, but a little makeup can make even the plainest Jane quite pretty.)

Jane: I believe it has been photo-shopped too often to be an accurate portrayal. (ponders uploading a new photo via Instagram for the ten pound note). To look almost pretty is an acquisition of higher delight to a girl who has been looking plain the first fifteen years of her life than a beauty from her cradle can ever receive.

Host: Are you happy with your media image? The sweet loving demure persona, sunny Jane?

Jane: I must confess I was a bit annoyed with my sister Casandra for destroying most of my letters, especially the ones full of sarcasm and wit. The ones that survive make me out to be some sort of vapid ninny. I suppose she thought she was protecting my reputation…(sigh)…but she destroyed the best ones.

Host: You had five marriage proposals and turned them all down, did you ever regret being a spinster?

Jane: One should only marry for love. And the more I know of the world, the more am I convinced that I shall never see a man whom I can really love. I require so much! You must be the best judge of your own happiness.

Host: What do you think of the movie versions of your novels?

Jane: Some were of more merit than others, but Colin Firth was simply divine as Mr. Darcy. Such a handsome man. I wish I had thought of that wet shirt scene but that would have been too risqué for the era.

Host: Speaking of Mr. Darcy – who was the model for that darling man?

Jane: ………………(prolonged silence, that wasn’t in the script, looks extremely annoyed).

Host: (quickly changes subject). And that famous speech, let me tell you how ardently I admire and love you. Did people really talk like that back then?

Jane: HA, that speech……(contemplates laughing)…..Said. No. Man. Ever.

Host: Jane you seem to be well versed in the ways of the modern world, colloquial speech, photoshop, how do you know about all these things?

Jane: The afterlife is heaven – there’s plenty of time to read and learn new endeavors. With a book, you are regardless of time. You ask yourself, why did we wait for any thing? Why not seize the pleasure at once? How often is happiness destroyed by preparation, foolish preparation! There are balls and a fair bit of dancing, and dancing leads to romance, for to be fond of dancing is a certain step towards falling in love. If one has been forced into prudence in one’s youth, one can learn romance as one grows older.

Host: Well that sounds fascinating….romance in heaven. (eyes camera man signalling time’s up). Any advice for modern day lovers?

Jane: Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. But don’t settle. Do anything rather than marry without affection. Wait for your own Mr. Darcy…..(flutters false eyelashes and smiles coyly)….I have found mine….

Host: Thank you Jane. (notices camera man motioning cut). You have delighted us long enough. Would you like more tea?

Jane: Thank you, but I must dash to Sephora before the portal closes and I have to return to the past.

And so there you have it folks, Jane in her own words. Like I said, nothing new there…..other than the blue and white egg cup was Cassandra’s.

(Disclaimer: I apologize in advance if I have messed up any of the quotes or facts as I am by no means an authority on Jane Austen, merely a fan. Next up, the Brontes – Branwell would be on board for sure, Charlotte and Anne might be tempted but Emily would never agree.)

Comfort & Joy: The Danish Art of Hygge (or how to survive January)

January 14, 2018April 12, 20185 Comments

“Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful.” The song, Let It Snow, has all the ingredients for winter comfort and joy – popcorn, snuggling by the fire, snowstorm, and the best part for those who hate winter driving, no place to go. It’s also the perfect recipe for hygge.

According to recent surveys, Denmark rates among the happiest countries in the world, and hygge, the Danish art of living well, is a major reason for their sense of wellness. Hygge, which can be summed up as “cocoa by candlelight”, is the perfect antidote to the cold dark winters and is considered a major survival strategy for January when the hours of daylight are few. The Little Book of Hygge – The Danish Way to Live Well was written by Meik Wiking, the CEO of the Happiness Research Institute in Copenhagen. You know that if a country sets out to study happiness they are way ahead of the game. Here is my book review from Goodreads.

The Little Book of Hygge: The Danish Way to Live Well by Meik Wiking

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is a delightful little book, particularly suitable for reading this time of year, preferably during a snow storm. So light some candles, get cozy by the fire with a blanket and a cup of cocoa and prepare to be entertained. Based on the Danish art of living well, it may inspire you to practice a little hygge in your own life…..comes complete with charming pictures too, but warning – the print is very tiny.

For those of us living in more melancholy nations, what exactly is hygge? The word hygge derives from a Norwegian word meaning “well-being”. Hygge is about atmosphere and experiences, not things, (great, I just decluttered, see previous blog post, but I hope I didn’t throw out anything hygge – is it to late to retrieve those plaid pajama bottoms).

In the introduction the author describes a December weekend at a cabin with a group of his friends.

: Cabin in the Woods – 2016

Post hiking, they are sitting around the fire, wearing big jumpers and woolen socks, reading or half asleep and the only sound is the stew boiling, the sparks from the fire and someone having a sip of their mulled wine. One of them breaks the silence and asks, could this be any more hygge, and someone answers, yes, if there was a storm raging outside, they all nod. This is hygge in a nutshell, except he forgot the candles, (they are big on candles in Denmark as they have seventeen hours of darkness in the winter months), so I would like to add that I hope they ate by candlelight, and had coffee and cake later by the fire, (they are big on coffee and confectioneries too).

According to the author, Danes have less anxiety and worry in their daily lives due to the cradle to grave social welfare state. They don’t resent paying high taxes as they consider it investing in society and improving the quality of life. What’s not to like about a country with paid daycare, where parents of small children must leave work early, and no one works nights or weekends, thus leaving more time for family and friends and all the other hygge-like things to do…..watch tv, read, relax.

The concept of hygge includes coziness, candles, coffee, blankets, fireplaces, hot drinks, good food, natural or rustic decor, nooks, soft lighting, comfortable clothing and casual entertaining. Interestingly, the hygge life-style can be excellent for introverts, as it is a low-key way of being social without being drained or exhausted by too much activity and partying, not to mention being a soothing balm for over-stimulated minds at the end of the work day. Even their workplaces try to be hygge. They may have couches instead of desks. I think I want to move. I have a vague recollection of one of my first workplaces in the eighties where we had birthday cake during department meetings. It was a horrible place to work but the cake was good. At my last job we didn’t even get meal breaks. Or course, a hygge-like state is only possible if it is in contrast to something non-hygge, which tends to be the status quo for modern life. Life today is a rat-race, stressful and unfair, money and jobs rule. This book can inspire us to stop occasionally and add a little hygge to our lives, and don’t forget the cake! (see next blog, How To Make Your Home Hygge).

Benjamin Franklin quote: “Happiness consists more in small conveniences or pleasures that occur every day then in great pieces of good fortune that happen but seldom.”

Snow Day – 2015

Decluttering 101 Out With The Old

January 7, 2018March 4, 20195 Comments

If decluttering your personal space is one of your New Year’s resolutions then you may be interested in, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, by Marie Kondo.

The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing by Marie Kondō

My yoga teacher lent me a copy of this book last year over the Christmas break and I became so motivated by it that cleaning out my house became one of my goals for 2017. Marie Kondo is a Japanese organizing consultant who is booked three months in advance according to her bio, which surprised me as I think of Japan as a nation of tidy people living in small neat houses, but maybe they are pack-rats like most North Americans. Her unique approach has now been trade marked as the KonMari method. The gist of her method is that you are to tidy by category and all at once, by dumping everything of each item from all over your house in the center of the room, shirts for example, and then you are to hold each item in your hand and “if it doesn’t spark joy”, out it goes. You will then only be surrounded by the things you love. The author was young and single and lived in a bedroom/apartment when the book was written in 2011, so although it is an interesting premise, some of the suggestions are not quite practical for a larger space shared with other people. What if something doesn’t bring you joy, (old electronic devices, the hamster cage, hockey equipment), but might bring joy to someone else? Then there are the things that don’t bring you joy but you need anyway. My iron doesn’t bring me joy, (I hate ironing, but I hate wrinkles even more), but I don’t plan on throwing it out. Toys should only be stored in one place? That might cause a few temper tantrums. Some of the suggestions border on the bizarre, you should talk to your house and your possessions and thank them for taking care of you? “Thank you for keeping me warm all day. Thank you for making me beautiful.” My sad old kitchen which is desperately in need of renovation might feel better if I spoke lovingly to it, but would I sound like George Bailey at the end of It’s A Wonderful Life, joyously greeting the miserable old Building and Loan. Or empty your purse every night, place wallet, makeup and put everything in it’s assigned place, and then repack it in the morning. I admire purse minimalists, but I am not one of them, my purse holds everything but the kitchen sink, so that would take over an hour. She often speaks of inanimate objects as if they had souls and feelings. What do the things in your house that don’t spark joy actually feel? They simply want to leave. Everything you own wants to be of use to you. It must be a Feng-shui kind of thing. Does my iron hate me as much as I hate it?

Still there was enough in the book to motivate me, so I diligently spent the month of January last year cleaning out my house, and the month of February attempting to clean out my mother’s, and some of March down in the basement, (home of the paper archives), and then it was spring, and I lost interest. Purging all at once was just not practical for me, a few hours here and there was the best I could do with my three-level house…yes, I broke the rules. I was less successful with my mother’s house, as she was born in the Depression and so has more of an attachment to empty coffee canisters and plastic storage containers than I do. (Perhaps that is why Marie is so booked up, it is much easier to get rid of someone else’s stuff than your own). “Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without,” was a popular saying in the Depression, which may explain why that generation tends to hoard such things, while the baby boomers, because we didn’t grow up with as much as kids today, were more into acquiring material things, (fine china, mahogany dining room sets), and the millennials are minimalists indeed who would rather have experiences than things, and only buy what they need. Speaking of psychoanalysis, while some of the book reviews I read unkindly label the author as having OCD, (if I had sold five million copies I wouldn’t care what they called me), there is a sad chapter towards the end of the book where she explains her need to be compulsively tidy since a young age as an attempt to attract her parent’s love and attention and avoid being dependent on other people. She was a middle child (self-explanatory).

Some pointers from the book – sort all in one shot, by category, not location. There are only two actions, discarding and deciding where to store things. Start by discarding, all at once, intensely and completely, then decide where to store things, and keep them only in that place. (Discard first, store later). Do not start with mementos. Start with easier items, clothes, books, papers, misc., and then mementos. We should be choosing what to keep, not what we want to get rid of. She recommends folding clothes in rectangles and then storing them vertically, standing up in drawers, so you can see everything, and they are less wrinkled. Store all items of the same type in the same place, and don’t scatter storage space, including designating storage space for each family member. Fancy storage systems = bad, they justify keeping stuff you shouldn’t. Some clothes like coats and dresses are happier hung up. I’m relieved my elegant black cocktail dress, (Winners sale), is happy even though it’s never been worn. Keep only those books which make you happy to see on the shelves. Out go those university text books I kept in case I felt the need to study chemistry again, (which I did twenty years later for a degree upgrade). Now they are but sentimental reminders of a time when I was smarter and had a better memory. Sorting papers – rule of thumb – discard everything! She relents and says you can keep some things like insurance policies, love letters etc. but only if they are stored in one spot only. On sentimental items – “No matter how wonderful things used to be we cannot live in the past – the joy and excitement we feel here and now are more important.” Yes, that is true, but what about keeping things for future generations? As a lover of history and genealogy, I wish my ancestors had kept more things, not less,

treasured heirlooms

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(see Nov. blog on Uncle Charlie WW1 Vet), and museums would be empty if we throw everything away just because it’s old. I am glad I kept those letters from my younger pre-email years, they are treasured memories for myself and for future generations.

What makes some things more difficult to get rid of is they either remind us of things past, (childhood toys, I kept my Barbie dolls and clothes),

Skipper and wardrobe 1965

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or we might have a future need for them some time and they won’t be there. I still haven’t read those books I picked up at the book sale last winter, but we might be snowed in for a week and then I’ll have something to read. Most bookworms have great difficulty getting rid of books. It seems a shame to discard a book, unless it’s a really bad book, and even then someone put a lot of effort into writing it. (I once read that books are one of the most often requested items in refugee camps). While I won’t be appearing on any hoarder reality tv shows, I do have a problem with some categories (see blog on vintage clothes on the main menu), and I admit I am a paper pack-rat too. With the clothes I am mourning the life I had, or aspired to (in the case of that chic little black cocktail dress with the bow in the back). My intention with The Vintage Corner was to sell some of the clothes and donate the money to charity, which can always make you feel better about throwing things out. I lost track of how many trips I made to the local thrift shop, but one day when I took an old ghetto-blaster in, (music for the garage, but it was never used and covered with dust), there was an immigrant family looking for a radio, so it was perfect timing. How happy they were, and how pleased I was to be able to help someone else.

Recently I came across a review for a new book from Sweden, “The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning” (Scribner Jan 2018) by Margareta Magnusson, which may be more suited to older generations.

The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning: How to Make Your Loved Ones’ Lives Easier and Your Own Life More Pleasant by Margareta Magnusson

This Swedish author recommends you streamline your belongings while you are still healthy enough to do the job, thus saving relatives the difficult task of sorting out after you are gone. It sounds morbid but it is actually uplifting, finding the right homes for all your beloved possessions so they can bring joy to someone else, plus it can relieve the burden of looking after so many things when you might not have the health or energy to do so. Still it does make me sad to walk into a thrift store and see all those lovely sets of good china which graced many a holiday table and which no one wants anymore. I collect blue and white china (which does bring me joy),

My grandmother’s turkey platter

and thrift shops are excellent places for that, although I am now more selective in what I buy.

The final chapter in the Marie Kondo book deals with the life-changing part of the title – apparently “the lives of those who tidied thoroughly and completely in a single shot are without exception dramatically altered.” Some of her clients discarded their excess weight, their jobs and even their husbands, and went on to live much happier lives. The rationale for this is that detoxifying your house has a detoxifying effect on your body and mind as well. It increases your happiness and good fortune to live in a natural state surrounded only by the things you love. She says, “when you put your house in order, you put your affairs and your past too, and you can see quite clearly what you need in life and what you don’t, and what you should and shouldn’t do.” The things we really like do not change much over time. Putting your house in order is a great way to discover what they are. I’m not sure if this is just so much psycho mumbo-jumbo, but you cannot deny it is a serene feeling to having a clean and tidy house. She does not seem to acknowledge however that some people prefer and even feel more comfortable with a certain degree of clutter around them. It makes a home look lived in as opposed to one staged for a real estate open house…you know the type, when you walk into a house and nothing is out of place and there’s not an open book in sight. I can’t say my life was altered in any transformative way, (but then I broke the all in one shot rule), but I would have to say the book was successful in making me stop and think, do I really need to keep this, and while some clutter has crept back, the usual suspects in the usual places, (papers in the den and kitchen drawers you may plead guilty), over-all it was a worthwhile read. The whole concept of sparking joy, while airy-fairy, did make me much more conscious of what I bought. Not only did a new acquisition have to bring me joy, but did I even need it? After spending three months decluttering I didn’t want to have to do it again. But there was a good feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction when it was done and someday when I must downsize there will be less to pack and unpack. As anyone who has ever moved can attest, moving can be a great motivator for decluttering.

The other day I saw a very large moving truck on my street, it almost stretched the whole block, which made me think about how much stuff people have today compared to the past. My maternal grandmother came through Ellis Island in 1922 from Holland, on her honeymoon, with one large wicker trunk containing all her worldly possessions. My dad’s ancestors arrived in Canada from Ireland in 1846 at the height of the potato famine with nothing but the clothes on their backs. They abandoned what few supplies they brought with them, when they jumped ship in the St. Lawrence during a cholera epidemic. They had to borrow one pound from the Canadian government (National Archive Records), for water transport from Toronto to where they settled, but by 1900 they had nice crystal,

farm heirloom

and monogrammed silverware, (I wish I still had some of those forks). Things can bring you pleasure and joy and we can spend a lifetime buying but in the end, we have nothing – you can’t take it with you, as the saying goes. There is a time to collect stuff and a time to get rid of it.

Incidentally, about a month after I returned the book to my yoga instructor, I saw a copy at a thrift shop for two dollars, so I bought it to keep as a reference book, which is a no-no according to the rules, but which I knew would come in handy some day. The author also has a sequel, Spark Joy – An Illustrated Master Class in Organizing and Tidying Up, but when I picked it up and glanced through it, there was a whole section on camisole folding, and since I don’t own any camisoles, I closed it back up and left it there on the shelf to bring joy to someone else.

Quote of the Day: “Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.” (William Morris)

Beach Blanket Books

August 8, 2017August 22, 20181 Comment

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It’s not been a great summer weather wise, too many cool cloudy days with too much rain, but it’s been a great summer for beach books. Retirement stress is having way too many books come in at the library at the same time, (and all just new releases/ bestsellers so nonrenewable), so that the large stack on your bedside table starts to feel like some kind of pressure instead of a pleasurable pursuit. How will I ever get through all these books! I have just recently joined Goodreads (how did I ever survive without it all these years – it’s like a candy store for book lovers), and so will be posting reviews on my site as time permits…..(see link below) So far this summer I have read:

1. Into the Water – Paula Hawkins – (author of The Girl on the Train)

2. Camino Island – John Grisham (a legal tale for book lovers)

3. The Identicals – Elin Hilderbrand (the Queen of Beach Fluff)

4. Secrets of a Happy Marriage – Cathy Kelly – (who is Maeve Binchy reincarnated)

5. All By Myself Alone – Mary Higgins Clark – (the Queen of Suspense) – just starting and good for a couple of late nights…

They were all good reads. You don’t want anything too heavy in the summer, (you can’t lug Anna Karenina to the beach, or Moby Dick unless of course you want to fall asleep), just a nice piece of beach fluff you can sink into while you sink your toes in the sand. There is nothing quite like a good beach read – you emerge four hours later when the sun is low in the sky and hopefully you will have remembered to apply sunscreen. It’s like the perfect summer fling, fun while while it lasts but not too memorable.

Song of the Day: Love Letters in the Sand – Pat Boone