Hello there dear friends & readers.
Here we are, once again...in the time of violets,
and daphne...ires, chicken stock in the slow cooker & pretty vintage blankets on our knees in the evening. The winter sun is low on the front veranda. Most days we put out fruit at the gate: lemons from Ted, grapefruit from the giant tree (huge as far as grapefruit trees go) across the road, walnuts from Ruth's gatherings & local oranges.
What an utter delight it was to hear a "Hello, Catherine?" in the Red Cross shop, only to discover Gina, my friend (that I'd actually never met)...visiting from way up north & having the presence of mind to recognise me from this blog. We had such a lovely catch up over tea & I think we're both still marvelling at such an act of pure grace.
On our journey home Rob & I found a lovely old oak mirror in the Woodville Mart. Clever man discovered that we had very nice hooks in the back of one of our old wardrobes to make it perfectly useful. Our hallway has become a cloakroom
I really do find violets enchanting.
I've decided I shall be a Collector of Violets.
Might be how I came across this little novel...the scent of them sent me on a violet mission; the memory of violets, the enchantment of these delicious little flowers,
Primroses & polyanthus,
All bring me back round to the scent,
"A pretty and rare violet originating from Corfe Mullen in Dorset, so is sometimes known as the Dorset Violet.".
A Memory of Violets...
"With a dozen occupants in each home, under the care of a Housemother, these women and young girls lived and worked together making artificial flowers in a nearby factory. It took them off the streets, gave them employment that wasn’t dependent on the seasons or the weather, and improved their quality of life immeasurably. The artificial flowers produced were mostly sold to the wealthy to decorate their homes, but the work of the ‘Flower Girls’ was eventually noticed by the Dowager Queen, Alexandra of Denmark (widow of King Edward VII).
Queen Alexandra was to commemorate fifty years since she had first arrived in England from her native Denmark and rather than the usual processional drive through London, she wanted to use the occasion to raise funds for the city’s hospitals. Aware of the work of the girls at Groom’s ‘crippleage’ she commissioned them to make thousands of artificial pink roses for buttonholes which would be sold all over London.