One Swallow Does Not A Summer Make ...

"One swallow does not a summer make, nor one fine day; similarly one day or brief time of happiness does not make a person entirely happy."  Apparently it was Aristotle who said this, which rather surprised me as I had supposed it must be a much more recent proverb, perhaps from Victorian times. 

Whoever said it, I am here to tell you that they were wrong!  My summer has been made wonderful by the gift of this beaten copper swallow (crafted in Africa, no less) which will grace some part of Shoestring Cottage. 

It was presented to me by that wonderful Mrs Peaceable and I was bowled over by such a thoughtful and felicitous gift.  How did she know swallows are my favourite?  Well, apparently it is fairly obvious and thinking back I realise there are a fair few clues to my partiality. 

 Hanging in windows

 Decorating plates

 Adorning quilts

 And doilies

And yet more doilies

Even on jewellery such as a favourite brooch and a bracelet.  

Sometimes when we think we are opaque it turns out that we are at our most transparent!

But thank you so much Mrs Peaceable for the perfect gift, treasured and always much appreciated. And to be able to give a perfect gift to a friend sometimes is almost as pleasurable as to receive it, because how clever are you to accomplish that?  

Slightly Irresistible

This is a leaf which just unfurled on a bird of paradise plant growing in the apartment in Auckland, not strictly Shoestring but fascinating appropriate for the New Year

On New Year's day Mr Shoestring and I had just struggled up Butler's Incline, a disused railway track from gold mining days which was now part of a walking path in the hills near Shoestring Cottage. We were with Senor and Senora Valentinos and as we lolled about in the sun swigging back water and eating our well earned fruit (pears, and do Cherry Ripe chocolates count as fruit?) Senora Valentinos idly asked me, "So, have you made your New Year's resolution?"

Now here is a question to cause apprehension to even the most stout hearted individual.  Should one admit that no such thing has even been contemplated, thus appearing morally lax, or should one trot out a praiseworthy old chestnut? I was completely stumped and as I had just been thinking of the enjoyable time we had all had the night before watching old video clips from our glory days, I blurted out, "Yes, I'm going to be Simply Irresistible!"  (In my mind this involved being extremely virtuous and responsible, and came under the "must try harder" category.  It would mean that I would no longer pick fights with my brother in law, and I would of course not give everybody the benefit of my opinion whether asked for or not.)

As soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted them - wildly ambitious, I could never achieve such a thing!  "I mean, I am going to be Slightly Irresistible".  Which, I would be the first to admit, is a ridiculous endeavour because there is no such thing as slightly irresistible, it is like being a bit pregnant or rather unique.  (When others say this I almost froth at the mouth, it annoys me so much.) In fact you could interpret slightly irresistible in any way you liked, being slightly irresistible is like damning with faint praise, it might even mean Barely Tolerable.

After that we all had a good laugh planning a Slightly Irresistible New Year's Party for next year.  We will have to rewrite the lyrics of the song and learn the dance moves (when we lined up and tried that gyrating motion which looks effortless we discovered ungainly pelvic thrusts are the end result for novices).  When we send out the invitations people will be free to interpret it as they please, but the ladies will have to wear their little black dresses with big pink silk sashes, learn the lyrics and sing them, put on fierce 1980s makeup (including that "smokey eye" which looks like the wearer has lost control of her mascara wand and various other dark pigments), and attempt that deceptively difficult hip swiveling movement.  It's always good to have something to work towards, after all.  We may need a few rehearsals tough.

It was so good to have a few days at Shoestring and even after the gale force winds which I feared had flattened the lilies, some bravely survived with upright stems.

 This one is taller than I am 

 Quite nice but not a wonderful scent

 Beautiful perfume

This one is taller than me, and has a beautiful scent which wafts in the windows at Shoestring - a definite winner

I had been anxiously conferring with my dear mama and the Duchess of Ringloes (who lives in Napier, aka TCOTU or The Centre Of The Universe) as to whether their Gloriosa Rothschildiana lilies had survived another season and appeared above the surface of the earth.  I had reports that they were indeed prospering and sadly kept returning to the places where mine had been planted.  Strangely the one which I bought in full flower and carted all the way back to Shoestring was sulking under the earth but eventually the bare corms which had been popped into less favoured spots came through and here is the first flower, I was so excited to see it that I startled some innocent passers by with a loud squeal.  It seems to be paler than the one which came already potted, perhaps local conditions are to blame.  Very beautiful though, all the same.

 The hydrangeas aren't having a bumper season, I suspect it is something to do with the way I pruned them last autumn

 But a lot of the other plants are settling and and enjoying a great season 

The scented mandevillia has climbed into the plumb tree and is draping itself down again with a good crop of blossoms

Happy New Year to one and all, even if you have made ridiculously ambitious New Year's Resolutions in public!

And on that note, I must away to clean out the cupboard beneath the bathroom sink - I feel sure that is the sort of thing Slightly Irresistible people do all the time.

Mother Nature Is One Fickle Dame

Saturday morning was fair but cool and Mr Shoestring and I sashayed forth to the monthly Matamata market where I was very satisfied with my purchases.  (One might also say smug and smirky.)  The deepest blood red/purple trailing geranium, not to mention various unusual perennials (I always love it when the vendor tells me I have made good selections, though to be honest why would they not say that?), and my very first Carlton wear piece.  I have always loved Carlton wear but as per usual a lot of other people seem to share my passion and it is ridiculously expensive.  This foxglove plate may be showing signs of wear but it was inexpensive, and as it had been languishing on the stallholder's table last time the market was held it was obviously in sore need of a good home, so it came away with me.

For months I have been idling around the stall where a man cunningly crafts cut outs in old coins into jewellery and torturing myself as to which piece I would choose.  This weekend I threw caution to the wind and snapped up this one, cleverly using two coins

and just as I was turning away with my purchase clamped in my hot paw I spied this very pretty enamelled spoon, transformed into a pendant.  The blue and pink shades in the sky are so intense and realistic, I couldn't resist it.  

Having happily dragged my treasures home to my lair I spent the afternoon tossing compost and coffee grounds about in the garden, murdering slugs and watering my new treasured plants.  I noticed with satisfaction that some lilies had already opened and a lot more were promising to do so any day. 

Imagine my horror when I woke up in the night to hear the wind howling and the rain lashing down on the roof.  In the morning most of the lilies were horizontal rather than vertical, the wind kept up its pace, and the rain continued to beat down upon us.  I could only be glad that I had planted my new plants while I had the chance and hope that they survived, and weren't ripped from the earth. Luckily I had picked the last of the roses and some fragrant pinks, but it wasn't much of a consolation.

 And true to my promise from last week, here is a picture of The Infinity Quilt in her glory, finally completed.  

She really isn't that bad and she did use up all the scraps from a favourite fabric I used to make dresses for my daughters all those years (decades) ago

Here is a the back, and you can see the way the edge is cunningly finished and the way I had to create miniscule triangles (and diamonds too, though they aren't in the photo) to complete it.  You have to be extremely dedicated and patient to accomplish this - I wouldn't recommend it to anybody unless they were making their master work.  

 I couldn't resist putting in a couple of pictures of this embroidery from an op shop which uses only the most simple of straight stitches but gives such a feeling of movement in the fabrics of garments, also in the trees and windmills.  Look at the little patch pocket on the brown trousers!