Nostalgia

Smells are so evocative, aren't they? I'm very fond of old fashioned flowers, especially scented ones. This post is a bit of a retrospective one because the flowers in it have pretty much finished blooming now, and the garden is tumbling into summer. However I want to pause for a moment and look at (and smell) a few favourite blooms. I find that modern perfumes often smell rather synthetic, and I can't identify the flowers in them. As a result I buy quite traditional ones which have the sweet, fresh, powdery scent of flowers which seem to evoke times gone by. 

Many years ago I collected a set of books which were produced by the very traditional perfumier Penhaligons. (One day I plan to buy some of their Bluebell Scent - it's rather pricey, though, so I may have to wait a bit longer!) The books are beautiful, filled with floral illustrations and, best of all, with scented end-papers. Here are some of my favourites.

They are treasures which I like to sit and peruse in spring and summer with a cup of tea when I've got a few moments. One of life's pleasures.

Now to the flowers. My all-time favourite has always been lilac and I mentioned it in this post last year. This is the lilac bush in our front garden, and I love to just stand and inhale its perfume, almost trying to store its memory for the coming year. In the Victorian Language of Flowers it signifies 'First Emotions of Love'. 

I was looking forward to putting it into the green spotty jug which I had for my birthday last year, and I wasn't disappointed. I recently crocheted the mandala underneath it with a bunch of lilac in mind.

Last summer I bought this lovely French lilac soap which scents my bedroom drawers,

and I've had this lilac perfume bottle for more than 20 years now. P gave it to me when I was pregnant with B and once the perfume ran out I kept the bottle because it's so pretty and still smells of lilac. Sadly it was discontinued soon afterwards - I do wish they'd bring it back.

Another old-fashioned flower I'm very fond of is the violet. It's synonymous with Victorian and Edwardian times and violet-sellers in Covent Garden in London, like Eliza Doolittle in 'My Fair Lady'. Violets were grown in Dorset, Devon and Cornwall in the first part of the last century and sent up to London to be sold in little bunches on street corners and in markets. They signified Modesty in the Language of Flowers, and are depicted as shy little flowers which hide their beauty.

I've always been rather partial to Parma Violet sweets because of their floral taste . They are thought of nowadays as a 'retro' sweet but still seem to be as popular as ever with their sweet, flowery flavour. I think that they're an acquired taste, though. A colleague once tried one and wondered why you'd want to eat sweets that taste of soap!

Another old-fashioned scented flower is lily-of-the-valley, or convalaria. Such a pretty, delicate little plant with elegantly-shaped green leaves, revealing rows of tiny white bells. In France it's called muguet and is traditionally given to loved ones on May Day. It's often thought of as a wedding flower and its dainty blooms feature in bridal bouquets. They signify Return to Happiness in the Language of Flowers.

In March I spotted a pot of lily-of-the-valley in a supermarket and eagerly snapped it up.

Outside the garden was still quite bare but on my windowsill dainty little bells of white were flowering away.

They smelt wonderfully sweet, a foretaste of late spring.

As I carried it from one room to another I caught sight of its shadow on the wall and stopped to take a snap. The flowers' delicately traced outline looked very striking, making me think that they'd make a lovely stencil or print. I planted it in the garden soon afterwards. I do hope it'll come up again next year.

Well, I hope you've enjoyed my little nostalgic reverie - perhaps you have your own favourite flower scents? I'd love to hear what they are x.

Things I Make With Lavender

Lavender is endlessly versatile: it is used to scent things, has antiseptic qualities, aids relaxation and can be eaten too. For centuries people have valued it in all kinds of ways, and I too try to celebrate its different uses. I love to think that I'm keeping some traditions alive in my own little way in my home.

Elizabethans used lavender water to sweeten washing and put bundles in bedding and under pillows to repel bugs and lice. It was also used to disguise bad smells and ward off disease. Thankfully we no longer need to use it to ward off plagues and such-like, but I still put lavender bags in with our folded bedding to make it smell sweet, and also in my drawers and wardrobe. 

In his Herball of 1597 Culpeper suggests you make a drink of lavender, cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves 'which doth helpe the panting and passion of the heart, prevaileth against giddinesse, turning or swimming of the brain'. I find that description of an agitated heart and brain so vivid, and like to think that lavender played a part in helping to relax such anxiety in Elizabethans. It has long been associated with relaxation and calmness, and I always put a couple of drops of lavender oil on my pillow when I change the sheets.

Here's my lavender after it's been dried. I've managed to accumulate several bags of it over the last few years, and it does keep its scent well, if kept in a sealed container. The perfume is absolutely intoxicating, and I love to run them through my fingers to enjoy it. The lovely smell stays with me long after I've handled it.

Lavender has been with me throughout my life, ever-present from childhood and always associated with my mum. Here is a sweet little plastic pomander which mum gave me when I was a small child. As you can see, it's a 70s design, a kind of Chinese lantern. I still fill it with lavender and hang it with my clothes.

She still grows lavender now, picking and drying it, and making it into lavender bags. She always edges them with lace and embroiders them with pretty scenes and flowers. She made me this one a few years ago, and embroidered a pansy onto it. She also made me one for my wedding, heart-shaped and embroidered with our names and the date. It hangs in my wardrobe, delicately scenting my clothes.

A couple of years ago I decided to make some lavender bottles after seeing them for sale. They are fairly easy but a bit fiddly to make, and must be made while the stems are still fresh, so that they bend without breaking (I followed instructions from a magazine, but there are lots of tutorials on the internet). I really like choosing lavender-coloured ribbons to make them with: purples, blues, lilacs and greens.

I also make lavender bags, like my mum. This one is crocheted from Lucy's pattern at Attic 24 (you can find it here), and it hangs on our dining room door. I used woollen yarn which I bought a few years ago in a yarn shop in Edinburgh, and some which was spun locally. I love the soft colours of the wool, and its texture and warmth.

This is a simple little bag made from calico, lace and a piece of lavender-embroidered ribbon. I love lavender's association with fresh laundry and cotton sheets. The name comes from the Latin lavare

which means 'to wash', and I think its associations with freshness and cleanliness means that it goes brilliantly with these materials.

I often make simple hearts from pieces of cotton fabric and old pearly buttons. I like to use offcuts of fabric like this one which is an old Laura Ashley design, and I used to enjoy selling them on my craft stalls.

You can also use lavender in cooking, and for centuries it has been eaten in savoury dishes. The dried buds can be ground up with coarse sea salt to make a seasoning for things like roast potatoes. Nowadays, though, it tends to be eaten in sweet dishes and pairs well with chocolate. It can be added to caster sugar to make baked goods  - here's some I made last year.

I also make lavender cake every summer from this recipe, and this year is no exception. It's a very moist cake and has that unmistakeable flavour. It can be an acquired taste, however. Someone I gave it to once remarked that they thought it would taste like soap and were relieved that it didn't!

Lavender shortbread is very good too, and this year I made it from this recipe. It was definitely the best batch ever, and I was really pleased with it. The flavour is quite delicate, and the biscuits are pretty with their topping of sprinkled caster sugar (although they're not great for the waistline!).

Lavender's blue, dilly dilly,

Lavender's green.

When I am king, dilly dilly,

You will be queen.

Bluebell Woods

This weekend was a long bank holiday weekend, and we felt in need of a visit to the woods. In particular, bluebell woods. They are usually at their best a little later in the month, but we had already glimpsed many in grass verges and in gaps in trees from the car when we've been out and about. I knew there was no time to spare, if we were to catch them at their peak, and so off we went to some woods a couple of miles away from where we live. The woods are in the grounds of a big old estate, and a road bisects them. We parked the car and after a few minutes came to a large patch of them.

That blue haze is unmistakeable, and Sara Maitland refers to their 'strange smoky shimmer' in her book Gossip from the Forest (a brilliant read if you're a fan of woodlands, forests or fairytales).

They are such a quintessential spring flower. The UK has around 50% of the world's bluebells, as we have just the right damp climate and plenty of ancient deciduous woodland. In Scotland the little campanulas that English people call harebells are called bluebells.

English native bluebells, or hyacinthoides non-scripta, have that unmistakeable droop to them and are an intensely violet shade of blue. They are sadly in decline because they hybridise with the Spanish bluebells which most of us have in our gardens. You can read about it here.

I got down to their level to smell them, and oh, the perfume! It's so delicate, and always puts me in mind of the scene in my favourite novel 'I Capture the Castle' in which Cassandra and her sister Rose visit a department store in London and find a bluebell scent for sale. They are poor and yearn for it, but later on when Cassandra is given it as a present she realises that it can't compare with the smell of the real flowers. I wonder if that's why the scent of bluebells isn't more widespread in modern perfumes.

Bluebells frequently grow under beech trees, and these woods were no exception. Beech leaves are so fresh and green this time of year and I love to see the sunlight through them

The trees around us were very tall and straight and the atmosphere so still, calm and quiet.

On the woodland floor there were many tree stumps attractively covered in moss and ivy.

There were several wild flowers in bloom too. The strangest one is arum. It has many other names such as cuckoo-pint, lords-and-ladies, jack-in-the-pulpit, wake robin, friar's cowl and devils-and-angels to name a few. Some of its names are rather rude, and a good deal of folklore is attached to it.

I also saw herb robert, which is a member of the geranium family, and has a smell like coriander.

There were also some lovely wild violets, growing amongst the ferns.

I'm glad we got out to see the bluebells at their best. They really are so uplifting. Hope you get to see some too this May x