The latest wholesale issue of Victorian Trading Company arrived at the museum last week and all of the volunteers gathered around to see what new items were being offered. The volunteers are some of The Shop's best customers, thanks in part to the discount the museum affords them.
As advertised on the front of their catalog, Victorian Trading Company prides itself in its selection of antique replica gifts, home decoratives and domestics, greetings/stationery, jewelry and accessories. In their jewelry selection this season is a Victorian Jewelry Casket described as: Intricately detailed, the glass-lidded chamber will harbor your precious baubles while complementing perfume atomizers and other vanity-top lovelies. 6x2."
It does indeed resemble a sarcophagus with a glass lid. The oblong body, no pun intended, is an aged silver color with engraved details and a clasp. The feet appear to be a representation of a fleur-de-lis motif. Some definitions suggest that word casket is a corruption of the French cassette, small box; perhaps that explains the fleur-de-lis emblem that is associated with French royalty. The lily flower is also associated with purity and resurrection. And of course, the feet may not even be a fleur-de-lis at all; the picture in the catalog is rather small!
A casket for jewelry, you might muse. Today's society associates caskets with cemeteries. In earlier years and cultures caskets were containers, repositories for valuables, such as jewels and documents. During the romantic wave that swept over the Victorian Era, death became softened even romanticized. Graveyards, with their puritanical associations, grew into park like cemeteries. The word cemetery comes from a Greek word meaning sleeping space. In this peaceful resting place coffins transformed into caskets, a place to keep the earthly remains of loved ones.
After the discussion about caskets and coffins, graveyards and cemeteries and heaven and .... well, the question remained: do we purchase the jewelry casket for The Shop? And the answer: we haven't decided.
On a related note, the Victorian Era park like cemeteries we have in Norfolk and throughout the Commonwealth are quite lovely spaces and especially at this time of the year. It is not unusual at all to take a drive or a stroll in cemeteries. The art is magnificent. The nature is restorative. Get out of the car or off the bike and wander about to read the stones. Do please obey cemetery rules and regulations. If the cemetery has an office or even a gift shop, stop in for a tour map. If there is a donation box, consider leaving a contribution to help with future conservation and preservation efforts. Enjoy!
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Yellow Blooms in the Garden
One of the most pleasant moments of the day is opening the black iron gate into the museum's garden and entering under the trellis of a Lady Banks rose.
The spring garden is sparse, but the new green of leafing trees and rose bushes and grass is complemented by the joy of the yellow marsh marigold, daffodils and forsythia.
I am neither a horticulturist nor a gardener, but I love flowers and trees and have learned many of their names and attributes even if I did not inherit my mother's green thumb to actually cultivate them. My mother always had a yard in bloom and in later years had two yards in bloom, hers and the museum's.
A great deal of what is currently in the museum's garden came either from her garden or was planted by her. The forsythia is a hardy shrub, thankfully, as the one in the garden was traumatized when someone ran into the brick wall from the parking lot a couple of years back. The landscaper rescued it and put it back in place with the hope that it would survive. And survive it has.
The yellow forsythia blooms before it leafs out. The plant was named for the British botanist William Forsyth (1737 - 1804), a founding member of the Royal Horticulture Society in 1804. He has been credited as the royal gardener for the gardens at Kensington Palace and St. James's Palace.
Britain's Queen Anne, who reigned between 1702 and 1714, worked to have the Kensington Palace Gardens established as a public flower garden. Her flower of choice, so it has been noted, was the jonquil.
Jonquil, daffodil, narcissus ... I know, there are 27,000 different daffodils in 13 classes according to The Daffodil Society (UK). I grew up calling these playful flowers jonquils. I read a somewhat amusing note on a gardener's site/page that claimed that the daffodil is only referred to as jonquil in 'the south.' Well, then.
I do not want to get too scientific about this - my apologies to anyone offended - because I just want to enjoy the beauty of the blooms and the spaces they populate. It is always the best of winter surprises when a few pop up and burst into color. Chances are they will be under snow the next week.
Again, my mother always referred to the bulb as the jonquil or narcissus. I knew the name Narcissus from Greek mythology. (Narcissus was a beautiful god who would sit by still pools of water and admire his reflection. Once he went down to embrace his reflection, thinking it was the most handsome of gods, and fell in - drowned - tragic. Thus, people who become enamoured with themselves are often described as narcissistic.)
I do not believe I even heard the term daffodil until I was introduced to William Wordsworth's poem 'I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud.'
The spring garden is sparse, but the new green of leafing trees and rose bushes and grass is complemented by the joy of the yellow marsh marigold, daffodils and forsythia.
I am neither a horticulturist nor a gardener, but I love flowers and trees and have learned many of their names and attributes even if I did not inherit my mother's green thumb to actually cultivate them. My mother always had a yard in bloom and in later years had two yards in bloom, hers and the museum's.
A great deal of what is currently in the museum's garden came either from her garden or was planted by her. The forsythia is a hardy shrub, thankfully, as the one in the garden was traumatized when someone ran into the brick wall from the parking lot a couple of years back. The landscaper rescued it and put it back in place with the hope that it would survive. And survive it has.
The yellow forsythia blooms before it leafs out. The plant was named for the British botanist William Forsyth (1737 - 1804), a founding member of the Royal Horticulture Society in 1804. He has been credited as the royal gardener for the gardens at Kensington Palace and St. James's Palace.
Britain's Queen Anne, who reigned between 1702 and 1714, worked to have the Kensington Palace Gardens established as a public flower garden. Her flower of choice, so it has been noted, was the jonquil.
Jonquil, daffodil, narcissus ... I know, there are 27,000 different daffodils in 13 classes according to The Daffodil Society (UK). I grew up calling these playful flowers jonquils. I read a somewhat amusing note on a gardener's site/page that claimed that the daffodil is only referred to as jonquil in 'the south.' Well, then.
I do not want to get too scientific about this - my apologies to anyone offended - because I just want to enjoy the beauty of the blooms and the spaces they populate. It is always the best of winter surprises when a few pop up and burst into color. Chances are they will be under snow the next week.
Again, my mother always referred to the bulb as the jonquil or narcissus. I knew the name Narcissus from Greek mythology. (Narcissus was a beautiful god who would sit by still pools of water and admire his reflection. Once he went down to embrace his reflection, thinking it was the most handsome of gods, and fell in - drowned - tragic. Thus, people who become enamoured with themselves are often described as narcissistic.)
I do not believe I even heard the term daffodil until I was introduced to William Wordsworth's poem 'I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud.'
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Just a few years ago I walked through parts of the Lake Country in England where William and his sister Dorothy lived. It was late spring, but there were some end of the season blooms weathering it out. I felt as though I had arrived at the end of a pilgrimage of sorts.
The daffodil has been named as the birth flower for the month of March. (Who gets to name birthstones and state reptiles and such?) In various sources noting the language of flowers, the daffodil means respect, regard, the flower of death, and the most poetic, ' you are an angel.'
I picked up a beautiful old post card at an antique store several years ago (probably longer than that now as the price penciled on the back is $2.00); it depicts a bouquet of daffodils with the sentiment:
Daffodils (Regard)
That come before
The swallow dares,
And take
The winds of March
With beauty.
Now, to the most exciting information I read just today: The Daffodil Society (UK) Established in 1898 as the specialist society of Great Britain for all who are interested in the Genus Narcissus, is holding its Annual Show in Coughton Court, Warwickshire - just outside of Stratford upon Avon - on April 19 and 20th. The official website for the society refers to the event as 'Yellow Fever;' which is a little ominous for folks in Tidewater, but ...
AND volunteers are needed to help with the weekend's events.
AND, according to the website's information: No Daffodil Society show is complete without the traditional fish and chip/ chicken and chip supper on Friday night. We are delighted that the NT is prepared to provide this for us at 7pm on Friday 18 April. Numbers are critical so ensure that you book with the Society Secretary well in advance and no later than Thursday 17 April 2014. Prices are being finalised and will be on the website shortly.
www.thedaffodilsociety.com/wordpress. Check it out. I think we've still got time, and we've still time to reserve a fish and chip dinner!
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