Each Little World

A green December

The storms that swept through the Midwest on Wednesday night did little serious damage near us. We lost power during the night and the winds sounded scary; in the morning everything looked the same as it had the day before and for a number of days before that. It has been fascinating to walk around the garden and see what plants still have not given up despite frosts and lack of rain. 

Polystichum makinoi with Adiantum venustum

The fronds are turning purplish-bronze but they are still mainly upright. I am not sure if it's the result of the fern's own hardiness or its protected location. 

Both my newest and oldest clumps of Dryopteris erythrosora 'Brilliance' are all standing tall and looking perfectly happy. I wish they had their autumn coloration now as well as in the spring. 

I put in two plants of Asarum splendens in 2019. Last summer I divided them and spread them around a bit. So far it has not been as aggressive as the native variety; nor has it gone dormant the moment it got cold. It is lovely to have that foliage instead of a big bare spot. 

I put a piece of Arum italicum 'Ghost' from the large mother plant in with this variegated ivy. The ivy makes the Arum foliage have a much more yellow cast than I ever noticed in the location. 

Epimedium 'Domino' has never slowed down. It's been a drama queen all season. 

I'm enjoying the sight of all this greenery in the garden; but I'm definitely ready for the moisture and insulation of some snow.

A film for gardeners

Recently one of my regular blog readers suggested a film she thought would appeal to me. Quite by chance I stumbled across it last night on YouTube. I was enchanted with it and think you might be, too.

"This Beautiful Fantastic" is a UK production, directed and written by Simon Aboud, that came out a few years ago. Ostensibly it's the story of Bella Brown who “grew into the oddest of odd balls, just her, and her books," as the voiceover at the opening of the film describes the main character. 

In fact, all the film's characters are "characters," to put it mildly: Jessica Brown Findlay, the youngest daughter on Downton Abbey, (as Bella, above and below), the brilliant Anna Chancellor as the head of the library where Bella works and Tom Wilkinson as her rudely grumpy neighbor. 

This is a film made for romantics, for gardeners and garden lovers, for everyone who loves libraries and books. It reminded me of nothing so much as "The Secret Garden" for grown-ups. 

Like all rom-coms, you know where it will take you, but I found the journey delightful. Immerse yourself in "This Beautiful Fantastic" this weekend and leave politics, pandemics, forest fires and swirling chaos behind. 

The rain it raineth . . .

everyday. Every day. Every day.

Shakespeare always has the right words no matter the subject.

"Twelfth Night" is one of Shakespeare's plays that has a number of songs, including one about the wind and rain. Here is a snippet of it from the finale of the 2011 production of the play in Stratford, Ontario. Judging by this bit, it looks like an excellent production. Hey-ho.

 

I own a DVD of the 1996 film version of Twelfth Night with an all star British cast. Equally good and totally different is the 2012/13 stage version (also on DVD) put on at London's Globe Theatre in true Elizabethan style with an all-male cast. The performances of Mark Rylance and Stephen Fry especially make that one a memorable production.

First ferns

I am assuming most of my plants that spent the winter underground will survive. But i have been a little worried about those that were only planted last year and came from East or West Coast nurseries. So I was thrilled today when I suddenly saw this little bit of green emerging in my new garden under the apple tree. I always leave fern fronds in place for the winter. They help protect the crown of the plant and they alert me in the spring to where I should not step.

This is Polystichum retrosopaleaceum, aka Polystichum retroso paleaceum aka Narrow Tassel Fern according to some sources. It is an Asian species and wants a moist woodland soil. Since it looks like all three plants I ordered from Far Reaches Farm last year have survived, I guess I must be giving them what they want. 

Armistice Day

The First World War birthed our modern, continually contentious world. It also brought women into public life from which we've never retreated. Women entered new spheres of work opportunity, ways of dressing and socializing to name just a few of the changes the war wrought.

I love this image of the actress Billie Burke (aka Glinda the Good Witch of the North from the Wizard of Oz film) in her nursing uniform in her hometown of Washington, D.C., circa 1918. I have been unable to discover whether Burke really served as a nurse or this is just a publicity photo. But her sweet wistful expression strikes me as the look of a woman who has not been to the front or even aided wounded soldiers.

Hundreds of women did go into war zones as nurses and ambulance drivers and there are many photographic images of them. However, they were not taken by professional women photojournalists as those women were not among the group who had access to battlefields during the war.

Though not at the front professional women photographers took plenty of pictures of life during WWI for "official, commercial or private purposes," according to Britain's Imperial War Museum. The museum notes the women's photographs "offer an important account of the general human experience of the war and a unique feminine perspective. Three collections, comprising photographs by Christina Broom, Olive Edis and Florence Farmborough, are of particular interest for the varied insights which they offer on the war and on the practice of photography by women at this time."

You can see images from these collections of WWI photographs by women here, along with an excellent article on women as photographers in that era.

Fiber Friday: From cotton to jeans

For those of you able to take a dose of politics and reality, the online edition of The Nation magazine has a short article with lots of photos that shows where the cotton comes from that goes into making jeans. It is an edifying story. And one that has become depressingly familiar over the years. 

(Photo by Jošt Franko / Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

The photo (above) shows the inside of a cotton spinning mill in Narsingdi, Bangladesh. It made me think of the scenes inside the 19th Century English mill in the BBC mini series adaptation of Elizabeth Gaskill's book, "North and South." It looks like it's snowing in this scene from "North and South" but that's cotton fluff in the air. It causes lung problems for workers like coal dust does for miners. 

Summer entertainments

One of my favorite reads is DE Stevenson's 1934 novel, "Miss Buncle's Book," which tells the story of the unassuming but highly observant Barbara Buncle, who pens a best-selling roman a clef about her country town as a way to supplement her meager income. I've read it at least three or four times, not caring that I know how it all turns out. It's well-written and smart as well as amusing in a way that seems particularly suited to summer. I've also read Stevenson's follow-up Buncle books: Miss Buncle Married and The Two Mrs. Abbots.

The three of them are a delightful triumvirate of women's literature from between the wars published by Persephone Press. I've amassed a shelf full of Persephone titles. Persephone is reminiscent of the feminist Virago Press which published forgotten women's fiction and non-fiction back in the 1970s. I still have a few of those titles on my bookshelves. I have to admit that I love the look of the sober gray covers of Persephone books as much as their contents. Those covers don't prepare you for the colorful end papers that are always based on a textile design from the same era as the book. I think that's one reason why I am willing to order these titles from the U.K as actual books rather than as e-books.

If "Miss Buncle's Book" sounds of interest to you and if you liked the 2008 movie "Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day," then check out "Theodora Goes Wild." I stumbled across this 1936 film with Irene Dunne, Melvyn Douglas, Thomas Mitchell and Spring Byington on YouTube. A perfect summer romp. I won't tell you more but it won't take long watching Theodora before you see how she echos the Misses Buncle and Pettigrew.
 

A Cinderella for feminists

The latest film version of Cinderella pairs director Kenneth Branagh with Lily James, the unexpected delight of the later Downton Abbey episodes, in the title role. Since it's a Disney production, magic and mice are involved making Branagh's over-the-top style a potential plus. I've read the reviews, heard from friends who've seen the movie and watched assorted video clips. But I'm still not interested in seeing this iteration of the classic fable. As far as I'm concerned, Andy Tennant's 1998 film, titled "Ever After," is as good as it gets.

The biggest difference between the two films is that Tennant's version, unlike Disney's, is not a fairly tale. There are no animated animals or magic wands to make things happen here. The efforts of real people — Cinderella, her longtime artist friend Gustave, her father's servants and, yes, Leonard da Vinci — steer this story more in the direction of historical fiction than fantasy. The scene is Renaissance France where da Vinci actually lived, worked and died. Though the film has lots of anachronisms and dates that don't match up, I was so enthralled with the setting — and the sets — that none of it mattered to me.

"Ever After" was filmed in and around seven chateaux in the Perigord region of France rather than in England or Hollywood, resulting in an entirely different sensibility than this story typically evokes. Hautfort (top photo) is the stand-in for the home of the prince and his parents, while Cinderella and her family hang out in the more modest manor above. There are scenes bathed in golden light reflecting off of old stone walls, dewy peasant gardens with wattle fences and pristine palace parterres, monastic libraries, and even truffle hunting in the woods. 

The film is bookended with the great Jeanne Moreau revealing Cinderella's true story to the Brothers Grimm, complete with the breathtaking "slipper," fashioned by Ferragamo. Drew Barrymore is a 20th Century Cinderella (who rarely goes by that moniker in the movie): educated, outspoken, willing to go to battle for those she loves and who love her, namely her father's few remaining servants who've known her since she was a child. She cleans up beautifully for the ball but more often she's messy and a bit dirty, able to throw, run and climb. And use words eloquently to free one man and enthrall another. This is a funny, feisty, witty woman who holds the screen — even when opposite her stepmother, played by a deligtfully diabolical Angelica Huston. 

Huston is greedy, plotting and beautifully dressed. She vamps and camps it up but her wardrobe is pure middle ages with all the dramatic headgear (above). Huston is typically abusive to her stepdaughter but not exactly loving to her own daughters, snooty Jacqueline and fumbling Marguerite. The daughters are usually at odds with each other, especially as Marguerite slowly reaches out to our heroine. The prince is played by Dougray Scott who looks suitably glam in tights, on a horse, or using a sword. But he is pretty much a rebellious boy trying to find his way in the world until he meets our girl. In this film, Cinderella knows who the prince is from the get-go, though he doesn't recognize her in their many encounters as the peasant girl he met while stealing her father's horse.

Though "Ever After" has the traditional stepmother making life miserable for Cinderella, this story is much more about fathers: fathers and daughters (young Cinderella with hers, above), fathers and sons. Even the "fairy godmother" here is male and functions more as a surrogate father to both the prince and Cinderella, aiding their romance with wisdom and engineering skills. "Ever After" is a visual feast and an eminently  satisfying story of a young woman who has the wherewithal to save herself. And she has the best ball gown of any film version of this story — and plenty of other movies as well.

The movie is available for streaming on Netflix. Note that it sometimes has a subtitle: "Ever After: A Cinderella Story."

Four days in November

On Friday a friend mentioned that CBS was streaming in real time their original Kennedy assassination footage all weekend. I tuned in Saturday morning and had trouble tuning out again. I felt like Alice falling down the hole into a world that I had once lived in. When I've thought about that long weekend in 1963, I remember that my family watched everything unfolding in front of us as national television networks broadcast round the clock. But I couldn't quite picture what that was like until I saw members of Congress, the diplomatic corps, and governors of all 50 states start arriving at the White House to pay their respects to President Kennedy, whose body lay in state in the East Room, as part of the CBS footage.

With that blurry black and white broadcast flickering on the screen and the voices of Harry Reasoner and Walter Cronkite describing the proceedings I was transported back to our living room. I was a political junkie even in high school and remember watching all these people arrive with rapt attention. This time around I recognized a fair number of faces but what I noticed about the situation was nothing that would have struck me at the time.

This time I first noticed the little things: Almost everyone — man or woman — was wearing a hat. Then the big thing hit me: It was a white man's world in 1963. Almost every woman I saw arrived on the arm of a man. There were few people of color visible or minorities of any kind. That world is what the Tea Party folks want to return to; a world where we all know our place and wouldn't dream of stepping outside of our assigned role. That's a world that I have no intention of living in. No woman in her right mind wants to go back there.

What was also striking to me this time around was the quality of the work done by the broadcasters who were winging it most of the time as unforseen events unfolded around them. They used big words and assumed listeners understood them; I caught Cronkite saying "embroglio"! When have you heard anyone use a word like that on TV? They refered to the funeral cortege without explaining cortege and noted the riderless horse had its "stirrups inverted" without further ado. While I mostly saw male reporters, I did spot a female journalist in the basement of the Dallas Police Station just after Oswald was shot.

And that was another surprise. Bob Jackson's iconic photo of Jack Ruby shooting Lee Harvey Oswald is burned into the brain of everyone who was alive back then. But when you watch the live footage you realize that's not what you see. An interview with Jackson in the Denver Post points out that it's photojournalism that told that amazing story because it has "the capability of telling a full story by freezing time." It's a striking thought given that it is TV that has always been touted as the medium that came of age with JFK's assassination. Yet it is the image from print journalism that has stayed with us for 50 years.

Watching even snippets of those events in 1963 is painful; not so much for the events themselves — tragic as they were — but for the realization that we seem to have lost the best part of ourselves in the intervening years and none of us have yet figured out how to make our nation whole again.

 

The Saveur 100

Every year at this time I make sure to pick up a copy of the magazine Saveur. The Jan./Feb. issue is devoted to "The Saveur 100," a compendium compiled by the staff of their "favorite tools, tips, ingredients, cookbooks, recipes, restaurants, and more." Each year the list has a theme and this year it's "The New Classics."

The Saveur 100 is the perfect midwinter read: engrossing and entertaining. And I always make a game out of reading it, giving myself marks for foods I've tried, tools I own and the like. Of course, since some foods and restaurants they talk about are in other states and even other countries, I do a bit of fudging on the foodie scale. I get points if I've tried the local equivalent.

If you're suffereing from cabin fever, find yourself a Saveur and create your own quiz. 

Here's how I fared this year:

• 13. Baumgartner's Limburger Sandwich. While I am not a big fan of this sandwich, I have been within sniffing distance of it. Chalet Cheese Cooperative in Wisconsin is the last producer in the country of Limburger, so like it or not, I am proud of its history and Wisconsin connection.
• 20. Griswold Cast Iron. We grew up using Griswold muffin molds and every time I visit my sister in Erie, PA — home of the Griswold company which folded in 1957 — I try to talk her into giving me the family Griswold pans. I've found them in antique shops in her area but the prices have kept me from buying my own.
• 29. Linie Aquavit. I learned to drink Aquavit (with a beer chaser) when I took a spinning and weaving class at Peter's Valley Craftsmen out east. But here in Wisconsin, with its strong Norwegian heritage, I learned to appreciate Linie. At all times — like right now — there's a bottle in our freezer staying properly chilled.
• 59.  Christmas in Connecticut. Watched it for the millionth time between Christmas and New Year's this year. Make sure to get the original 1954 version and not the ghastly re-make. Despite the photo in Saveur, Barbara Stanwyck has a fabulous wardrobe in the movie.
• 64. Vietnamese Pork Chops. Had them for lunch on Saturday at Saigon Noodle in Madison. Saveur provides a recipe, but I'm not sure I'd ever bother making them when I can get them right in the neighborhood.
• 66. Old Gourmets. I, too, hoard my back issues of the now-defunct Gourmet magazine. I've got a few dozen issues going back to the mid-1980s; in particular those from November and December with all the great holiday recipes. And then there are untold articles and recipes I've clipped from Gourmets before I tossed them.
• 67. Judith Jones. If you love cooking and cookbooks, you know Jones.  She's the legendary editor who persuaded Knopf to publish Julia Child.
• 68. Homemade scones. I make 'em, I eat 'em.
• 93. Lambrusco. A guilty pleasure and a must with Chinese food.

 

Soon I will be able to add No. 91. Sweet Orange Buns (pictured above). Mark, who doesn't have an insatiable sweet tooth like mine, pointed out this recipe to me in a way that clearly indicated he'd be mine forever if I made him this treat. What could I do but send him to the store for some oranges and yeast?