October - her favourite month

Although her spirits were lifted by the first signs of the spring,

 and although she was quick to abandon herself to the warmth of the summer, 

the truth was that she loved the autumn most of all.  

And of all the autumn months, it was October she preferred.  

 For it marked the start of her comfort season.

 It was also the month of her birthday; as a child   a month to anticipate, with tingly toes and starry-eyed hopes of special gifts.  Today her birthday gifts were fewer and smaller, but her pleasure only heightened.

After the heady summer days, so full of entertaining, and dressing up, and eating and drinking well,
 she discovered, with the passing years, that October came as a welcome relief.

Her summer wardrobe had become tiring.  With age  the lightweight skirts and shirts of summer were less easy to wear.   Gone were the days of perfect long brown legs, and easy-going hair tied back in a pony tail and left to hang down a bare back.   These days dressing required more planning in the summer, but somehow became easier again once October showed its face.

High heeled sandals were put away, and flat comfortable boots retrieved from the back of wardrobes.   Strappy dresses gave way to long sleeved soft tops, and gentle jumpers.

In October she could pull on her favourite jeans or slim line trousers, slip on a cashmere jumper and a sleeveless jacket, a pair of flat shoes and she looked great.

 "From now on I shall only go out during the month of October" she had joked to a friend, while secretly surprised at how good that sounded.

Entertaining at home also felt easy.  Spontaneous invitations given and received,   no pressure to produce startling displays of complicated food.  Autumn eating was about quiet conversation in front of an open fire.  Friends seemed happy with home made soups, fruit tarts and stews that perfumed the house while bubbling all afternoon on the stove.

There was no urgency in the air.  Christmas was far enough away to think about later.  The children had gone back to school and even the start-of-school-year frenzy had died back and made way for a steady peaceful routine, that augured well for the serenity  of the year ahead.

And in her garden, there reigned a deliciously dishevelled display of dahlias, asters, zinnias and sedums.  Happy to give their best without requiring extra water, or even any pruning.
  All that could wait for November. 

 So when she wanted to be outside, she could wander into the forest, happy to enjoy the pumpkin orange colours and quiet in the knowledge that this month of October - above all others - was a time to relax, to be kind to herself  

.... and find new energy for the months to come......

Probably more auto-biographical than I would care to admit, (although my birthday is not in October!) but this is my contribution to Marsha's monthly party 'By Invitation only'.  If you would like to read what other bloggers feel about the month of October then click right here!

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the french country wedding

Marsha at Splenderosa is running another splendid party this month on the theme of The Wedding.   If you don't mind, I have written a little imaginary correspondence between a mother and daughter in the build up to a wedding that will break with family traditions.  As always when I post a piece of fiction I thank you for your indulgence.

I also invite you to pop over to Splenderosa and see the other fabulous posts that have been concocted on this bridal theme.

sunday,  1 january 

Ma chère Charlotte

We are so happy about your engagement to Philippe, he is a charming young man, and I am sure he will make you very happy.  And please don’t worry, his family background is really not that important, I am sure that Papa will find him a very good position in the firm.

To think I shall soon be grandmère !

Your doting mama

***

24 february

Ma jolie Charlotte

Papa and I are very happy to hear that your wedding plans are making progress.  We rather hoped you and Philippe may have visited  for the weekend by now;  I hope you weren't offended by my comment about his family.

We’d like to help you put your guest list together, there are so many cousins to invite and you have to remember all the family members in Burgundy and in the South.  You’ll certainly need a very large venue for so many guests.   I’m sure you will also need some help with the menu for the wedding banquet.

Yours affectionately

Mama

***

29 february
 

Charlotte, whatever are you thinking of?!   only 100 guests! we have never had such a small wedding in the family, what will people say?!   What will the bishop say, he never conducts such small wedding ceremonies, we shall all look so forlorn in the cathedral, oh dear... are you sure you wouldn’t like me to come to you, I could take care of all the arrangements.

Reply promptly please to your

Worried mama

 ***

1 march 

The village church!!  And the reception in a barn?!!  Charlotte, have you lost your mind?!  I had to lie down in a dark room when your papa read your letter to me!   darling that village is tiny, we'll never fit in!  Really Charlotte, I am beginning to think you have lost your senses.  Please take time to consider what a grand and beautiful ceremony we could arrange in the cathedral, your family has always been wed there!

***

sunday, 26 march

Well Charlotte, after a sleepless night worrying about your wedding, I had lunch with my cousin Frédérique today and of course we talked about your plans.   You know how much affection your aunt Fred has for you, and also her boho attitude that I have frankly never understood, I mean how could she live in that beautiful château and walk around all day barefoot!! 

Never mind, that is not what I’m writing about.
Frédérique has convinced me that this is your wedding, not mine, and that everything must be just as you should wish.  

 So please darling tell me what I can do to help ..... and how many dozen white lilies I should order for the day?

 ***

friday, 31 march

 

All right Charlotte, all right, so you don’t want white lilies, although I remember  that in my day they were by far the most chic flower for a ceremony.  

 You tell me "pink roses and field blooms", well I’m sure I don’t know where to order those, but I shall do my best.

Dare I mention the family jewels for your bridal head-dress, or will even they be too formal?  Please, please  don't tell me you just want a rose in your hair!

 ***

3 april

Charlotte, I have received a letter from my great aunt Josephine, asking what gift you would like for your wedding.  She wondered whether you would care for her set of six silver tureens?   I feel so out of touch with your arrangements that I honestly didn’t know what to reply, maybe you could shed a little light. (I didn't have the heart to tell her that your flowers will be arranged in jam jars!)

As per your last letter, I have contacted Joseph, our former coachman, and he says he’d be honoured to drive you from the church in the old carriage.  

 ***

23 april

 

My dearest Charlotte

Thank you darling, I want to tell you how much I enjoyed helping you to choose your wedding dress.  You are right, your friend has a beautiful little store, and yes, her dresses are enchanting.  I love your choice, and I quite understand that the family veil may not be suitable for your country wedding .... but I still think it worth a try.

Your mama

 ***

13 may

Goodness Charlotte,

I woke in the middle of the night worrying about bridesmaids.  Please darling, please listen to me on this one, I would so hate to offend a part of our family; and as you say that Philippe has no little nieces or nephews, would you mind terribly if our family provided that part of the cortège?   I know that Marie-Laure and Stéphanie, would love to see their girls dressed up for the day.  Surely just three little girls wouldn't look too grand?

Please re-assure your mama 

 ***

21 june

Darling, tomorrow is your big day, I wish you well, I'm sure you will look beautiful , mama

23 june

My darling Charlotte,

Your wedding day was wonderful, we are very fortunate to have such a fine young man as our son in law, and I have to say that your simple ceremony had a charm and intimacy that could never have been achieved elsewhere.

Thank you darling for wearing the family veil, it looked beautiful and gave me great pleasure.    I realize that I didn’t make all your planning easy, and for that I thank you even more for your patience and generosity.

Your papa joins me in wishing you and Philippe a wonderful life together, you have certainly shown  strength and serenity in planning this first precious step.

Your mama, and I hope your friend

 ***

pictures thanks to the french blog un beau jour  and to once wed 

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spring renewal - a short story

The following short story - 100% fiction - is my contribution to this months party at Splenderosa.  Marsha's  theme this month is spring in the garden, I have attempted to weave a tale around the theme.  I beg your indulgence.

Louise poured some more coffee into her favourite mug, slipped on a pair of old shoes, walked out the kitchen door and onto the lawn.  It was  still wet with the morning dew.

She had spent the week in the garden. Taking stock to begin with:  remembering what used to be, dreaming of what could be again, and making resolutions.  Then she had picked up garden tools and started work.

Tom was away for several weeks.  He didn't often travel that long and she didn't know why this trip required so much time.  She had meant to ask, but somehow the question was never posed.

The children telephoned now and again: "Hi Mum, what are you up to today?".  They never left her time to  answer, content to babble on about their busy lives, and she content to listen, and painfully aware that in any case she'd have nothing much to say in answer to their question.

She was long past that extremely-busy stage in her life.  There were no longer hungry mouths to feed at home, no homework to oversee, no school activities to run (thank goodness),  less entertaining of friends.  She had to admit that the less she had to do, the less she did.  Instead of making full use of this new found freedom, she had let herself slip into a rut, maybe even a deep trough.

So this morning, over breakfast she had moved from taking stock of her garden to taking stock of her life and, most importantly, her marriage. In fact it seemed that her garden and her marriage were similar in far too many ways.

As a bright young couple she and Tom were unstoppable.  Endlessly busy, and productive and floating high on a cloud of achievement.  They had known an exciting planting season when seeds of hope had been liberally strewn and  tender shoots admired.   Their garden was cherished and grew well to form a strong and admirable surround to their beautiful home; interesting jobs; lively circle of friends and inevitably glittering social life.

With the groundwork well established they  became more ambitious,  more confident and two young trees entered the garden.  As the years passed the young trees grew strong, did well  and gave Louise and Tom much joy and satisfaction.

Then had come the drought years.  They seemed endless.  The former excitement and innovation gave way to an exhausting routine.  There was never enough water, the garden was untidy and even the young trees showed signs of strain.

The grass faded from lush green to beige.  The garden became dull, their busy lives carefully moving around the edges without ever taking the time to stop and take a good look at what was happening.

Tom started travelling more frequently, the children flew the nest to start their studies and then to commence their own lives, and quite suddenly, in what seemed like a blink of the eye, Louise found herself very often alone.

How had this happened, why hadn't she seen it coming?  She toyed with the idea of talking about it to Tom, but although they got on well enough together,  they communicated only superficially about practical details of everyday life, never in depth ....... She knew that the garden needed attention, she knew exactly what had to be done, it was simply a question of deciding if she had the will to take on the task.

At the start of the week she had toyed with the idea of calling in a landscape gardener: hoping for a magic wand that could bring the garden back to life.   She saw a small ad and dialled the number ... trying to sound bright and nonchalant on the phone:

"Oh you know, it's a mature garden now...runs itself really.. I'm not even sure you'd find that much to do..."

There was a pause, the gardener's question came, as incisive as a scalpel... "Are you happy with the way it is now?"

She was taken aback  "Oh well, it's OK I suppose ... a bit boring .. but nobody seems very interested these days, not like when we were younger.  It was gorgeous then you know, wonderful, all our friends loved being here..."

"Well if it used to be that good then you must have given it a lot of love and attention"

She said nothing so  he continued  "If you want your garden to be interesting again, I can give you some ideas, but it'll be all the stuff you know already.  My ideas won't have any effect unless you're prepared to put in the hard work...do you think you're ready to dig and prune and weed and feed again?"

They talked a little longer and before Louise put the phone down she muttered "Thank you, I'll think about it" .. and so she had. Non-stop ever since.

She took paper and pen and wrote down what she wanted: - surprisingly difficult to define.   And even more difficult to contain to just the garden.  Her wish list for the green areas began to grow and spread to other parts of her life.  A wish list for herself, her family and then her marriage.

She longed for shoots of hope; for signs of new life.  And curiously the more she thought about all she longed for,  the more she realised how much she already had.  The structure of that beautiful garden was still there, nothing major had changed, with the right attention she could revive it.

By midweek her back ached, she had blisters on her hands and her shoulders had turned pink in the bright spring sunshine,  but the garden was already looking better.

By the end of the week she found the telephone number for Tom's hotel.  "Everything all right old girl?", his voice was surprised and concerned "you don't normally call me like this"

"Oh yes Tom, everything's fine, I was just thinking about you, wondered how you were and when... when are you coming home"

"I'll be back next week, but you know that ... are you sure there's nothing wrong?"

"Tom, I've been doing a lot of thinking this week, and working in the garden too.  You'll see a big difference.  It's lovely to feel that spring is on its way.  I have great plans for the garden, I was hoping you'd be pleased, that ... that we could maybe work on it together.  Remember?  Like we used to"

Tom said nothing for a while, then  in a quieter voice simply said "I'd like that, I'd like it a great deal"

"Thank you Tom darling", she replied " I was so hoping you'd say that....  Hurry home, there is so much to do.  You'll see, this spring,  it will be good again"

Thank you to Marsha for organising her By Invitation Only party each month.  If you would like to see what other bloggers have written on the theme of spring in the garden then pop on over and check the list.

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Tina and Marsha's party - by invitation only!

Oh dear, I'm in a bit of a tiff!  I've been invited to a big swish do at the amazingly enchanted home of Tina.  Everything looks so grand and impressive I've looked through my wardrobe a hundred times trying to decide what to wear.

Marsha told me about the party, although she didn't really reassure the country girl that I am; her words were: 

"We've each received the same invitation to a fabulous Christmas party in someone's beautiful home. The date is December 23rd. Let's imagine it's in Tina's new home, just for a visual treat. But, it's her 1st party in her new home and she's pulling out all stops. There will be live music, carolers, a lavish buffet, champagne passed around by waiters in tuxedos. You know, a very swell party."

 A glance at the contents of my wardrobe told me that my habitual attire may be good enough for Normandy, but would most definitely not produce the right effect chez Tina.  So ...... I called my personal stylist!  That surprised you didn't it?!  I bet you thought I didn't even know what a stylist was, but hey, I have lived elsewhere than this valley you know, I am aware of the need to be chic and glitzy when required!

My stylist has bright blue eyes, beautiful  hair and  legs a mile long ; she knows everything there is to know about fashion, she's 16 years old, she's called Nina,   and ... she's my daughter!  Take it away Nina!

Getting Mummy [that's me folks] ready to go to Tina's beautiful party, is all about compromise and making her see sense:  

of course she thinks she wants to wear shoes like these,

but seeing the size of Tina's home, in heels like that she'd never manage the run from the porte cochère to the salon, let alone the tour that she hopes Tina is going to give her guests ....

 so instead, she needs beautiful éscarpins like this from Chanel

Mummy believes that she'd be happy in a dress like this

but I know her, she'd be hopeless in something that floaty, she'd manage to trip over the hem, or dip the ruffle into someone's champagne,  in reality she'd be way happier in this little dress (they are both by Christophe Josse)

Jewellry is easy, she only like to wear simple pieces, and her favourite is the bamboo collection by Gucci, she'll be best wearing their ring

and bracelet

the bag could be a problem; she's so used to using her big black Lancel, with the space for everything including her camera. 

Actually I think that for this soirée, she'd be better without a bag, she'll feel more comfortable without anything in her hands except of course for the cadeau, but now I have sorted her clothes, I'll let her tell you what she wants to bring Tina as a house warming gift.

Thank you darling, so glad you are there to keep me on the straight and narrow.  It wasn't easy to find a suitable gift for Tina, after all what do you get for the girl who seems to have everything?!  

I think that in her new home she'll have a lot of wall space to dress, so I thought I'd like to take her a painting, nothing too big, but something feminine that could fit in easily, maybe in her new dressing room. 

I wanted a theme that would remind her of the fun she has with her blog and the support and friendship of the many women who stop by to read her.  I chose this painting by the impressionist Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida, I thought it looks comfortable and elegant, I hope she does too! 

Thank you to Marsha for having created this fun monthly happening, By invitation Only.   Shoot over to her blog straight away to see how the other ladies will be dressed for this virtual Christmas party.

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attention to detail - splenderosa's party

The notice was put up outside the château on Friday afternoon.  Marie saw it as she cycled home .  She needed the job.  There was no other way around it, it was difficult making ends meet  and anyway,  she could cook! 

Her only worry was the competition.  So she cheated.  For probably the first time in her life she didn't play fair.  After a quick look around her, she deftly tore the notice from the iron gate, pushed it deep into her basket and hurried home.

Monday afternoon found Marie alone outside the château gate at ten to three.  She waited politely until three then rung the bell.  A young boy emerged from the side of the château, pulled open the heavy iron gate and muttered "it's this way", before running off without her.

Just when she thought she'd be going in alone, a car drew up and a young woman jumped out, shouted "merci!" to the driver of the car then slipped inside the gate.  This new player looked dangerous.  She was prettier than Marie, and she knew it.  She walked tall, the little hat perched on the top of her head bobbing as she caught up with Marie.  "bonjour, are you coming for the cook job too,  I though I'd be too late, but that nice young man stopped to offer me a lift.  Oh, and my name's Héloise"  she laughed and Marie didn't know what to answer.

As the two young women approached the side entrance to the château, a matronly figure came out to meet them, she looked efficient but not friendly.  "Ah bonjour, only two of you, hmm." she looked up towards the gate,   "We were hoping for more.  Well come in, come in, I have to show you around before you start in the kitchen."

She ushered them into the huge kitchen, bright copper pots gleaming on the walls, and a monster of an oven presiding over the centre of the room.  "Bon, ici c'est la cuisine, I'll show the rest of the house to whoever gets the job."

The girls were looking around the kitchen when a door opened and a tall man walked in.  The matron immediately dropped a curtsey, "ah bonjour monsieur le Comte.  These are the girls for the cook's job"

The man lifted a pair of glasses to his eyes.  Marie glanced at him then kept her eyes on the ground, Héloise had no such qualms.  She looked boldly at the Comte and smiled.  It worked, but then it always did.  Héloise attracted men like bees to honey.  "Eh bien, très jolie", muttered the Comte, " but can you cook?"  His question was directed at Héloise.  Already Marie had been taken out of the equation.    As if the only requisites to being a good cook was having a pretty smile and the legs to match.

"Bien sûr Monsieur, j'adore la cuisine"  Héloise giggled, Marie rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

The Comte talked for a while about life in the château, his love of food and why baking fine pastry was a good test of a cook's prowess.    Héloise, smiled and agreed with everything he said. As he left them, Marie heard her say, "c'est bon, no matter what my pastry tastes like, he wants me for the job".

They could use whichever utensils and ingredients they felt necessary to make a pastry dish.  Each had a work table, Héloise was given an apron, Marie had brought her own, perfectly pressed.   Monsieur would be back at the end of the afternoon to judge!

Héloise was noisy, far too noisy, she hummed, she clattered, she cussed as she spilt flour on the floor, she bothered the matronly intendant every two minutes for apples, for sugar, for some of this or more of that.  But she was happy, sure of her tarte aux pommes, sure of the job, sure of her unbeatable powers of seduction.

Marie was slower but more discreet. The  list of ingredients she required was  precise.  'Matron' raised her eyebrows as Marie asked for "flour, milk,  eggs, butter, cheese, cream, sugar, chocolate and ... a piping bag",  then she looked at Marie and smiled - she had guessed!

Just over an hour after the Comte had left the kitchen, Héloise removed a  burnt, off centre apple tart from the oven.  She put the tart, piping hot,  on a board and sat back, indifferent to her messy work space.

Marie was still busy. The saucepan in which she heated the  milk, water, sugar, salt and butter, was off the heat now.  She had added her carefully measured flour in one go and stirred energetically until the dough came away from the side of the pan.  She let it to cool then added the eggs, stirring well.  Half the dough was transferred into the piping bag, the other half left in the saucepan, where grated cheese was added.

She worked meticulously, deftly, she knew exactly what she was doing and what she was aiming for.  She beat cream; melted chocolate; washed saucepans; removed baking trays from the oven.  Quiet, sure movements.

By the time the Comte returned to the kitchen the sun was going down.  He entered smiling  and headed straight for Héloise and her apple tart: a shadow of disappointment passed over his face as he saw the burnt crust, the uneven texture, the irregular layer of apple slices.  He cut a small piece and tasted, the warmth left his smile to be replaced by a polite rictus.  "Merci mademoiselle", was all he said.

Sighing,  he turned towards Marie, "and you, what have you prepared?"  Marie stepped aside to reveal two beautiful trays of perfectly regular, impeccably presented choux pastry.  The first flavoured with tangy cheese "des gougères Monsieur, j'espère que vous aimez",   then  "and these are chocolate éclairs.  I hoped that Monsieur may like the use of the same choux pastry base to prepare a sweet and a savoury dish"

The Count's jaw dropped, he tasted a cheese gougère  "so light... délicieux",   he whispered, then reached for a tiny chocolate éclair, his eyes seemed slightly damp

The pretty smile of Héloise was already forgotten, Marie had his full attention now. "I don't believe I have ever eaten choux pastry of this finesse!  How do you do this?!"

Marie smiled, relieved and confident, "my mother always taught me that le bon dieu est dans le détail, Monsieur, I love to pay attention to detail".

 ~o~O~o~

I am honoured today to have been invited to join in with the blogging party going on at Splenderosa.  The theme was the quote attributed to Flaubert,  "le bon dieu est dans le détail".

I chose my favourite painting at home to inspire the characters of Héloise and Marie. Pop on over to see what the other girls have come up with:  some really fun ideas from many of my favourite blogs.

Thank you Marsha!

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