With autumn ending on Friday 31 May, winter started here yesterday 1 June. As the temperatue drops I’ve been spending more time indoors in front of the wood fire.
Of course the house is centrally heated but I don’t usually use the system if the fire is warming enough. That said, the winter cold arrived last week & I have used the central heat everyday, mainly in the mornings, to get the house warmed up quickly. And if I come home later in the day I use it at least until the fire warms up.
And with the ongoing work/building/renos going on around the house, especially in the last few months, I stopped cleaning, dusting etc. All such a repetitive waste of time. Ugh! Hopefully, the kitchen/family area & lounge will be sorted soon so we can get back to living in the house as normal. Wood heater should be installed in the lounge this coming week. Hallelujah!
The colder weather means more indoorsy stuff for me which has meant some quiet time to pull up this Blog. Sometime ago I put it aside, unpublished it, removed it from search engines, after gravitating to Instagram thinking I would use it (Insta) only & not the Blog.
While I love Instagram for allowing quick & efficient posts, it doesn’t seem reliable (for me at least) for posts with multiple images (up to 10 are allowed) . . . a bit hit-and-miss. I’ve tried quite a few times only to find if it doesn’t publish the draft post (keeps saying things like “re-try later” . . . ) I’ve not only lost the post but the draft as well. I guess there’s a way around it but I haven’t figured that out yet.
And, of course, the blog allows more text & multiple images without the risk of losing content. Basically, the blog supplements Insta posts with more content/detail. So the deal is that I use & enjoy Instagram for its Insta-efficiency & the Blog for longer form posting whether to supplement Insta posts or not.
Trick is cleaning up my act in reviving the Blog & finding, or making, time to post more often. Hmph.
Given my thing for old brocante especially kitchen scales & kitchenalia generally, the stuff we remember, the kitchen gear we used in the ‘old days’, it’s hard to stop collecting.
But that doesn’t mean I have to have everything I see in the way of these kinds of kitchen items. I am more discerning than that. When I come across something I want, I may have to let another piece go or, at least, store it somewhere.
Naturally, our kitchen area is far from austere. I am anything but a minimalist.
It is full, it is warm & atmospheric exuding a warm & rustic nostalgia, a physical & emotional beauty I love. It’s a great place to gather & cook, and have a wine or two or more.
I think it goes back to my childhood when I, being the second eldest of 9, started my life in the kitchen at a very young age under Mum’s tutelage. Some of my earliest memories are about the kitchen, being in the kitchen – cooking, cleaning & looking after the younger ones, all 7 of them in the end. These old items represent, for me, those days long ago on the farm, of family, babies & hard work. I can’t ignore them, can’t discard them & still use them if suitable.
From this earlier post:
So, what is it about these old kitchen utensils? It’s a sort of imagining, a wistfulness for me as I see beyond their utility and usefulness to their physical and emotional beauty. What do they remind you of? For me, it’s a thinking, a memory that goes back many years. Their real value is in understanding that they have passed through history, an earlier time when they were made and used. You see that? It’s what they represent of earlier times.
I wonder who made them, who used them? It’s a sense of history, a need to keep these older household items, to preserve and honour them by having them in my home and heart. Maybe somebody in the future will continue to take care of them once I’m gone. I can’t throw them out. Don’t like seeing them lying outside, rusting.
The images in this post reflect parts of the kitchen area. I don’t need to elaborate do I. You can find a small collection of vintage cutlery, flatware, silverware, knives, bone handles . . . . .
And the old scales . . . a weakness of mine . . . sigh . . .