daphne ~ in a vintage garden

I know that i have mentioned daphne before... but I could not ignore posting about it again.. bringing back more memories of my fragrant childhood garden memories...
I can't remember either of my grandma's having this plant growing in their own gardens (although I am sure they did), but I do remember the plant growing at Auntie Elsies place.. she was my Nan's sister and lived in an old federation house in a suburb of Sydney. She was 'proper'... when we went to visit her, we had to be on our best behaviour and wore our good clothes. We weren't allowed to run amok in the garden but had to behave like ladies.

We were given lemon cordial served in a glass jug with matching glasses. Lunch was always in the 'formal' dining room, never on the scrubbed pine table in the kitchen. The table was set with various knives and forks and the cucumber was peeled and scraped with a fork, putting ridges in the slices... onion was served in vinegar and sprinkled with sugar... as only the rich do. Oh yes, Auntie Elsie certainly had airs and graces. I was in awe of her. Smelling very much like ladies do, of lavender and violets..
her garden was a delight.. we were allowed to wander around after lunch...I remember when we arrived at her home, the brick fence with a gate that opened onto a path that lead to the front door... a gorgeous russet and cream tesselated tile path... and my little feet would walk up that path, feeling very grand in their patented leather shoes, with white lace topped socks of course. I can remember wanting to skip up that path but the serious, perfect little capricorn in me, would not allow that... oh no.. I had to behave so that I would be a good little girl... so, I walked demurely along, trying to stop those shoes from dancing! all the time, tut-tutting at my sister who let her inner child run!
at the step grew a magnificent daphne plant that greeted you with the most delightful perfume. a perfume that after all these years, still whisks me back to my little girl memories. Auntie Elsie had a cut glass bowl that was placed in the middle of the dining room table, filled with daphne during winter and gardenias during summer.

I found this in my research on violets, it seems easy enough.. I might just make some for that dreadful dry winter skin that I seem to develop in this cold windy weather...

a simple recipe for violet salve which can be applied to the skin to help sooth it.

8 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 teaspoon natural bees wax
1/2 Cup fresh violet flowers
2 drops Roman camomile 1/2 teaspoon honey

In a sauce pan or small pot, heat oil. Add flowers, wax & honey. Mix until well incorporated. Let simmer for 5 minutes. Turn heat off. Let stand for another 10 minutes. Strain off flowers & add essential oil. Pour into a clean container & let cool in the refrigerator.

Life at Inglewood today is cold, bitterly cold. My fire has been going non-stop for a week. Oh I know, it is not cold compared to many of my friends who live in the Northern hemisphere, but to us who live in the Land of sunshine & flowers... well, it is cold. I have been puttering around my home over the last week, seeing it with different eyes. I do love my home, but lately it has taken on an extra sacredness, like it is cocooning me from the world... I come into my own space that is my yard, surrounded by fences, close the gate and shut out the worries of the world. Then opening my door into my inner sanctum and come into my place of peace. Looking back over my soul journal the past year... I wrote: 'what do I wish to create?..... I wish to create a peaceful haven in my home......' and you know, I think I have done it.

The garden has virtually stopped, come to a standstill... resting, as it should in winter... the little finches are back, feeding on the grass seeds that are my lawn... I don't mow the grass during winter as the finches depend on it for their food...in one area of the grass, there is a whole patch of a tiny blue flower, I haven't a clue what it is.. but it is sweet, although a 'weed'.. I have seen it before.... perhaps in a previous life somewhere. Yesterday, while i was outside, I noticed the calendula and borage flowering in a tumbled confusion... blue & orange... such a perfect combination by Mother Earth... the daphne is still flowering profusely and the perfume is intoxicating... I can never understand why there wasn't a perfume made with this flower... or maybe there was...

but then again, what about violets?

another perfume that takes me instantly back to my Nan's home, into her garden and her bedroom is violets... ahh yes.. that delicious, sweet perfume that only violets have. I remember my Nan methodically, slowly and gently, picking a bunch of violets and surrounding the bunch with violet leaves, tying it up with cotton thread and putting it into a small glass vase on her bedside table.. and my little nose would sniff strongly, trying to absorb as much of that smell as I could. You know what I mean.. sniffing and not wanting to take a breath incase you lose the smell, sniffing until your lungs feel like they will burst.. I still do it sometimes

Funny, as I started to 'research' violets on the net, I came across Devon Violets.... "South Devon has always been associated with the growing and cultivation of sweet scented violets dating back to its peak in Victorian and Edwardian days.".... my Pa was born in Devon... East Stonehouse to be exact...I wonder if he planted his violets in his own garden in memory of the place that he left when he was a little boy of 5 years old.... I wonder if his mum, Laura had them growing in her garden in her new home here in Australia? I guess I will never know, so one must assume that she did. Even though she was born in Cornwall, she lived her married life in Devon until she came to Australia in 1915. So lucky me, I have the best of both worlds and of course I have digressed yet again...... but the words 'Devon Violets' has that same soul stirring that lavender does...

**I spoke to my mum about Laura and asked her if she could remember Laura growing violets and she said 'oh yes! they grew everywhere.. popping up between the brick paths where it was damp & moist. They were picked every Sunday and put into a little jar onto the mantle, near the saying "HOME, the place where you grumble the most but are treated the best"..'
..in my minds eye, I saw it.. I saw the jar of violets, I saw the saying .. beautiful words surrounded by vintage flowers, most probably framed and glassed....I saw Laura standing there, thinking of Devon & Cornwall...yes, I gotta go pick myself a bunch of violets this very minute and put them into one of the little vintage pecks paste jars that I have been collecting forever.......it is quite weird how very much like Laura I seem to be.. not ever knowing her in real life.

I now have my own violet patch that I inherited when we bought Inglewood. Under the apple tree.. the perfume right now is wonderful as i walk up my garden path towards my back door. It just wafts over me... much like the lavender does but in a gentler way... violets are genteel. softer... more ladylike.

"If you gather the first Violet in the season, your dearest wish will be granted. Ancient Greeks wore the violet to calm tempers and to induce sleep.A necklace of violets protects from deception and inebriation. Use them in spells to restore health after long illness. If you dream of violets, fortune is sure to smile on you before long. If violets bloom in autumn, they speak a warning. A lovely myth
tells us that violets first sprang where Orpheus laid his enchanted lute."

so what had been happening in Woodford the past few days? it has been bone chilling cold, the fire has been burning non-stop and I have been snuggling in my big pink chair, covered with my favourite vintage eiderdown & I thinking, as I do... eventually coming to yet another profound light bulb moment of those lovely moments in my garden, when I am utterly at peace, when I have a real stillness in my soul... it is those moments that I am in the presence of Spirit/Goddess/God/Universe.. call it what you will.. but I believe you know what I mean.. total peace and I wanted to bottle it but then realized that if I were like that all the time, in perfect stillness, then those moments would not be special, but I realised that they do actually happen to ME...all these thoughts really made alot of sense to me at the time, they probably don't now nor can I put them into words..... I moved the furniture around in my dining room last Thursday.. from here to there and back again.. then over there, oops not quite right, what about over there? all by myself..... cupboards, dressers, tables... lots of energy was moved that day... and I was absolutely exhausted on Friday.. I think I over did it.. so I did not a thing on Friday, ..except sleep and read back on some favourite blogs... felt guilty for doing nothing but I kept telling myself it was ok... honestly, I am so hard on myself sometimes.... the washing is out in the cold winter sunshine today, the garden can wait because it is too cold and I am going to pick that bunch of violets, surround them by leaves and tie them with string.

just what is it about Lavender?

even if one has never done any formal study about herbs,... one, has some kind of affinity with lavender.
lavender touches something deep in most woman's souls... maybe it is a past life recollection of gathering lavender to make herbal ointments, or past life memories of gathering bunches to hang to dry so that it may be used to strew on the floor of the sick room.. or maybe it is a more recent memory.. one of grandma... whatever it is, lavender is THAT plant. I love it and I always have, even before I started to do my 'unrecognized' study of herbs (I call it unrecognized, because I don't go to college.. I do research myself and most of my knowledge comes from within, which of course we know, is not recognized by the 'powers that be') as usual I digress....when I was little, I loved to smell deep in my nan's neck.. the waft of lavender, I loved to open her drawers and inhale the perfume of lavender bags that we tucked among the neatly folded clothes, I loved the little vintage bottle that sat on her glass tray on top of her dressing table.. I loved the sprig of lavender that was hastily put into a jam jar of water beside her sink... I loved to walk through her garden, grabbing the bush as I walked past.. then smelling my hands... I just knew lavender was special.

I LOOKED FOR GRANDMAS GARDEN AND FOUND MY OWN

I have lots of lavender in my garden... I love to have tiny bunches of it in vintage jars, I love to put some on top of my winter fire, so that as it dries, the lavender wafts through my home.. now I am wanting to buy myself some lavender perfume, so that I can smell like my grandma...dabbing it behind my ears just like she did.

my own lavender is ready to harvest and as soon as the rain stops and it dries out.. I will harvest it and make some bunches to hang in my home..
I was searching the net yesterday for a recipe for lavender floor polish and came across this delightful site the JOYS of Lavender

LAVENDER BATH
1 cup oatmeal
1 cup baking soda
1/2 cup lavender flowers
Small muslin bags with drawstrings

Mix ingredients in a blender or processor. Fill bags and put into bathtub while adding water.

so what am I doing in Inglewood today? Thursdays I like to give my dining and kitchen a good clean and I will do that but I am also going to move some more furniture around.. changing things... moving the cupboard that cost me $10 at an auction, the one that was named 'crappy' on the auctioneers sheet, the one that everyone loves and oohs and ahhs over when they see it.. the one covered in paint from some long forgotten grandpas shed, the one with 'spare' glass handles found when someone was making it out of make do materials... I am moving it into my dining room from my foyer and putting my vintage french plates on top, then into the foyer will go a grandmothers chair, a table, my statue of Buddha and many tea lights.. welcoming visitors to my home.. and then? well, I might just brave the cold rainy day and go pick myself a bunch of lavender anyway...

instant coffee in Inglewood.

Monday morning and the wind is howling around outside... these are not the August winds that we usually experience, but maybe they are early because Mother earth is confused or maybe this is just a taste of what is to come. .. I have to brave that wind soon and hang sheets and towels... let me ask you, if you happen to see any flying by can you tell me? or maybe you might see me looking much like the Egyptian mummy from a vintage movie.. wrapped in the sheets blindly walking around... yes, the wind does tend to make me a little ratty !! trees bending over, creating kindling sticks that I will pick up tomorrow.. doors rattling like all the souls from wherever are trying to get into my home, into the comfort and warmth that is my home at this time of year...
the fire is going and just before I start my usual Monday morning routine of cleaning my bathrooms and changing my bed sheets, I sat down for a cup of coffee. I usually sip nettle tea or some kind of horrid herbal tea that is good for me..but sometimes, a girl has to be naughty.. I don't drink alot of coffee, but I do look forward to the one that I have each morning before I start my housework, or my temple work as I am beginning to think of it... I don't own a coffee machine, nor do I own a dripolator, percolator or even coffee pot.. so it is instant coffee for me.. I can hear some of you now.. 'not instant coffee!!!' but yes, until the coffers allow me to purchase myself a cappuccino/espresso machine, I drink instant coffee, but I buy the best I can find and so far, the one I like is Nescafe Gold blend..

I sat in my big pink chair, in front of the fire, with Billie Holiday singing in the background... my mind was thinking of that first time that the jar is opened and the aroma that comes from it... and how the first cup from each jar is always special. And as I sat, I thought that this first cup from the newly opened coffee is truly something to be grateful for... and I got it!! I finally got it.... (well for that moment anyhow) I know I sound like a silly billy but this was one of those moments when the soul sighs with a deep 'ahhhhh...', an 'I get it' moment.... You see, I struggle with the grateful part of Simple Abundance because I try too hard to find things each day to be grateful for..the small simple things in life.
Today, I am creating a new altar in my bedroom.. changing some furniture around, moving energy... ... yes, the small simple things in life. clean sheets, rose incense, roses from the flush that is blooming in my winter garden, a vintage glass port bottle full of water beside my bed. Billie Holiday. you know, sometimes I even put one little rose in our ensuite.. for Joe to enjoy.. I am sure those simple things make his heart sing too... he might not say it, but I know it does.. it must, don't you think?

another one gone...

On Wednesday, another elderly resident from my area was buried. Let's call her Edna. I wasn't her best friend, nor did I visit her home... but I knew her. I knew her from the street stalls that she manned while selling cakes and lamingtons to raise money for the Lantern Club. I knew her from booths at the gates of open gardens. Gardens that are opened by their owners to raise money for the deaf and blind children.... I knew her from other charity functions that i have been invited to over the years. She was 83 years old.. and an OAM (Order of Australia Medal) For service to children with hearing and visual impairments through the Blue Mountains Lantern Club. . She was of an era where you knuckled down and just got on with life. where you cooked comfort food for the family.. soups and stews... where a cup of tea fixed most problems. Where the church was 'enough'...... and as I read her funeral notice, I wondered what has changed.... many people of my age are spiritually lost, we search and search for something... I know I do. I cannot even put my finger on what it is that I search for ... oh yes.. my inner wild woman.. my authentic self.. I search for meaning.... I wonder if Edna ever searched as I do.... or is it something of my generation. I am sure in my grandma's day they didn't have time to think about the meaning of life.. they had bread to make and cows to milk... my ancestors in Cornwall had lots more to do than sit under the moon pondering ......Do we have too much time on our hands? I don't know and I guess I never will but Edna's death has got me thinking maybe I 'should' look at doing some volunteer work. Instead of trying to find the meaning of life.. or a purpose.... maybe I should get out and DO. oh and I know the word 'should' is a no-no according to the likes of Wayne Dyer and Doreen Virtue, but I ask you.. what other word can be used?
Just lately I have been re-reading Simple Abundance and this book 'should' be a must for all women... the simple things in life that make you appreciate just what you do have.... so I potter, I pick daphne to put in vases around my home, I grow some of my own vegies, I own chickens..... and all the while, hoping that when I do pass to the other side that someone just like me, will remember me, just like i have Edna.

(Harry is home! he is much better and in a month will undergo some tests to see why he got the infection.. thanks so much for the prayers and comfort.. xo)