A Tablecloth Called Tabitha

Okay, a tablecloth is not the sexiest subject for a blog post, I admit.  But this is a special tablecloth (as evidenced by the fact it even has a name - Tabitha!).

This cloth’s claim to fame is that it was made by the group of ladies who meet to sew at my friend Joanne’s house once a month.

It was Claire who dreamt up the idea and Claire who stitched the whole thing together (she’s a star!).  We each appliquéd a teacup or teapot or cupcake onto a square of cloth, then embroidered our names or initials alongside.  One corner of the finished piece bears our collective name - we are henceforth to be known as the Goodley House Patchers.

Today was the day this work of art was duly christened, as we gathered for our annual Christmas sewing day and ate our lunch from its lovely linen top.

Call me fanciful if you will, but I’ll swear dinner tasted all the better for that newly-created heirloom beneath our plates!

Scrunching

Very important.  Before the last leaves of autumn are blown away, make sure you take time to scrunch through them!

The Christmas Markets Of Cologne

I love continental Christmas markets – the tantalising smells, the festive music, the delectable food, the pretty wooden stalls, the handcrafted goods, the happy atmosphere.

This time last year, I was at Munich’s magical market.  This weekend, it was Cologne.  And here’s what I’ll remember:

Crowds, crowds and yet more crowds!
The scent of aniseed
Apple punch and big baked apples - and the smiling girl who served them
Cologne cathedral’s vertigo-inducing organ loft….and the building itself, poignant survivor of a city destroyed by war
Scrunching through dried leaves
Hot chestnuts
The chocolate museum
Catching bubbles blown by soft toys, sitting on top of the wooden stalls
The exquisite Café Reichard

Hmm….food seems to figure heavily!

The Nature Table: November

By November, the landscape has been pared back….has assumed a starker outline.

Leaves have fallen, stems withered, flowers died, seed heads shrivelled.  The colour has leached from the land.  There’s a shutting down, a withdrawal, in preparation for winter.  What energy remains is garnered within the plants to sustain their diminished forms until spring.

My eye is drawn to the spare stems with their interesting silhouettes, to the waving grasses and rusty bracken.  Hidden by an abundance of leaves for much of the year and overshadowed by flamboyant flowers, the structure of plants finally reveals itself as the year draws to a close.  Everything, after all, has its moment of glory.

To honour and recognise these modest forms, I’m giving the nature table over to them this month.  I’ll let the remaining berries and blooms live on where they are; and instead I’ll gather dry and dying plants, willowy weeds and curling twigs.

This month belongs to them.

How To Brighten A Foggy Day

Having your work displayed on someone else’s site is generally a bit of a morale booster.  So, when my husband called yesterday to say the Daily Telegraph was looking for photos of the fog and mist that’s been so pervasive of late, I e-mailed a few iPhone pics through to the picture desk.  Half an hour later, two of them were up on the Telegraph’s website.  Which made the day seem altogether sunnier.