Anne here, where it's the middle of winter, and I'm contemplating seasonal pleasures. I know, you don't often think of pleasures in winter, but there are pleasures to be found in all seasons, and I'll share mine here and hope you'll share some of yours.
We had a big storm last night and as the wind whistled around the eaves and rattled the windows and rain pelted down, it was so lovely lying in bed snuggled up in the warm, reading.
Another of my winter pleasures is a real fire. I don't have one in my house, but several friends do, and when I can, I enjoy it so much. (The photo is from Hobbiton in NZ which I visited a few years ago.)
A friend just phoned me and asked if I wanted a bucket of cumquats —her tree is apparently loaded. I said no thanks — I don't eat fresh cumquats and I didn't want to make marmalade or jam, as I'm trying to cut down on sugar. She tried to coax me by pointing out her sister had made a delicious sauce with them that went beautifully over ice-cream, and that she also made cumquat liqueur. I stayed strong.
My parents also had a cumquat tree and made cumquat liqueur. I say "they" but really I was the one who made it, under my mother's instructions. She was a waste-not-want-not type and you can't let fruit go to waste, even if nobody wants to eat it. You see making cumquat liqueur involves pricking each cumquat with a darning needle and making dozens of small holes in each so the brandy can soak in. That was my (very boring) job. Also adding the sugar and brandy. My parents nobly did the drinking part.
I'm also planting the last of the bulbs — it's a bit late for some, but when you're given bulbs, you plant them. And my dad's snowdrops are in flower — they're certainly one of the pleasures of this time of year, and more bulbs are pushing up, reminding me that spring is around the corner. My daphne is also in flower, perfuming the air. And my dad's alstroemerias are flowering already and in our Mediterranean-style climate will flower for most of the year.
Flowers are such a joy in winter — well, they are all year round, but in winter they're a special treat. Back in March I bought a red cyclamen to have in the house. Seeing it in the widow every morning, catching the morning sunshine, cheered me up so much that when the flowers finished several months later, I put it out in the garden and bought another few. Obviously it liked the outside cold, because it's now giving me another small flush of flowers and is back inside.
I grew up with a grandmother who was still very much a very thrifty countrywoman whose head (and habits) were from the Victorian era. Visits to her and Pop almost invariably involved carrying out seasonal jobs. (They were big believers in keeping children busy.)
In summer we picked and bottled all kinds of fruit — and being the youngest of my generation, my small hands were in special demand for packing in the apricots, just so. We also picked blackberries and made jam.
When lavender flowered, it was my job to pick the flowers, dry them, and then restock all Nan's millions of lavender bags — she had several in every drawer and cupboard shelf. That involved unpicking the seam on one side, emptying out the old lavender, replacing it with fresh and then sewing the little bag up again.
One ritual I recall from when I was very small was fluffing the flock. Nan's pillows and cushions — and I think some of her mattresses — were stuffed with flock — a material made of soft shredded fabric, I think — a bit like cotton wool. Over time the flock would form clumps that would get harder, and a lumpy pillow was not a pleasant thing. So we'd unpick the pillow or cushion, tease out each lump so that it was soft again, and re-stuff and resew the pillow. Not my favorite job.
In autumn we kids would go gathering nuts — mainly chestnuts and walnuts, I recall. We had a couple of almond trees at home, but gathering from the 'wild' was more fun. The chestnuts were my favorite, and we'd roast them in the fireplace, peel off the burnty skin and eat them, trying not to burn our mouths. My favorite part of walnuts was trying to crack them so that the shells formed two perfect coracles and then we'd have boat races in the creek.
Another autumn pastime was mushrooming. It was a real excursion, and we'd all head out for the day with baskets and small knives and search for delicious field mushrooms. A lot of people are wary of mushrooming these days, fearing poisoning, but the adults in the family all knew which ones were safe, and taught the kids.
I haven't even touched on summer pastimes. I got an e-zine this morning that was all full of different kinds of ice-creams. And wench Pat was talking about growing tomatoes. Home-grown, sun-ripened tomatoes are so delicious.
Friends in the northern hemisphere are sweltering, while some here are freezing. So wherever you are, and whatever season you're experiencing, what are some of your seasonal pleasures? From now or in the past.