The Great Sanday Teacup War
Posted: Wednesday, 13 February 2008 |
Well, maybe...
When life gets to being a bit rough, and I start to feel down, I look for ways to make myself feel better.
One of those ways is really weather-reliant...I garden.
Now granted, my own garden is hardly the neat, beflowered, manicured treasures you find further south..anything that grows here has to be tough, hardy, much like the folk and the sturdy wee coos....:D
Today was a fabulously sunny, calm day, so off I went, spade in hand, to continue digging the tattie patch I started the other day.
It`s a grand thing, to be able to take your time at such a thing, to be able to look in the direction of a keening curlew or noisy oystercatcher, or to stand a wee while and watch fishing boats saunter into Kettletoft harbour.
It`s a grand thing, to be able to watch your own geese settle down and doze in the fine unseasonal sunshine and keep guard over the surrounding fields where sheep bleat on occasion..what more could you ask for, the sounds of the countryside all around you and add to it a gentle breeze and the sea kissing the shore and wow, what a day!
There is little that smells so damn good and honest as freshly turned soil. Each spadeful unleashing that aroma that just smells so clean and new and just..well...good..y`know?
Whatever it is that makes weeds so sturdy and indestructible, if we could harness that in medicine somehow we might be on the road to immortality...though, of course, some weeds are already used in medicine..I always have a fine crop of coltsfoot, like it or not...
well though, in atween those fine fat forkfulls of soil, rich in worm and weed, there are broken pieces of crockery....you know what I mean? old, worn, obviously been there a while, and how come I never dug those bits up last year, or the year afore, digging in the exact same place?
Pretty crockery some of it must have been too...willow pattern teacups, obviously....dinner dishes...old stone jam jars...and the large glazed brown pieces of crockpot, for soups and stewings.....
Now, there is no record of homes ever having been on my tattie patch...so I have to wonder, where the heck do these come from, and how did they get there? Because, there`s a LOT!
So what happened to Sanday`s bygone crockery? Was there a domestic war that spanned a few generations? Because some of it comes from Victorian times, others from what looks like the Pyrex fifties...
Did the men and women of this bonny isle have a war of the sexes, with the women chucking the domestic ware...and missing?
I now have visions of generations of menfolks standing out among the tatties, pleading innocence or their cause, and ducking...a lot.....
I filled a peedie bucket with broken bits of china and earthenware....
some of it comes in useful...a few years ago I made a driftwood mirror for the bathroom and using that white kind of plaster, set the bonnier bits of broken crockery into the frame of it. I still have it and it still looks nice....
Today had a real feel of spring to it, and that isn`t quite right for February, I know it. But instead of pleeping aboot it, I`ll just hope it holds true to this for a peedie whiles yet, so I can get the garden finished and maybe my own snowdrops will poke their lovely white heads above the frosted ground, much later than everyone elses but nonetheless welcome for all that.
And when things get me down, then I go out and do simple gardening and am reminded I have the chance to do it, so am soon feeling better for it. I`m a lucky woman...I live in a bonny, peaceful place, I live a simple, quiet life, and am appreciative of days like this has been.
Though if anyone can help solve the broken teacup mystery, please tell....it`ll drive me scatty thinking of it....
Comments
It was a midden? Three sunny days and all of a sudden there's a feeling of optimism and joyfulness in the air, the Winter Blues are banished for the time being and Liff thrusts its way on to the stage. I haven't seen any signs of gardening in Rolling Acres yet...laziness, just laziness!
Flying Cat from somnolence samba
250 years or so ago the East Indiaman "Gotheborg" went aground just outside her home port of Gothenburg and all the Chinese porcelain was lost until divers started salvaging it. Maybe an errant horde from G枚teborg (that rhymes if you pronounce G枚teborg the Swedish way) - or just a Mad Tatter's tea-party?
Barney from Swithiod Sunday Tea on Sanday
just wanted to say, I've been reading your blog for ages, and I think you're marvellous. I love the stories you tell, and the beautiful magic of your words.Thank you for brightening my life!
marilyn from canada
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