November

By November, the studio was full of the excess of summer, dried and ready to make their way into bouquets.

Seeing as I’m writing this way-late in December (wreathing and shipping got the better of me and I ran out of time to sit and write), I’m now in reflective mode as the year draws to a close.

It’s been a tough year. I know I don’t need to say that. We’ve all gone through it- facing our own, private set of challenges that sit alongside or outside of 2020, and today with news of Christmas lockdown, it’s still not over. The one thing that’s been soothing for me has been the flowers. There’s no doubt in my mind after this year, that flowers make the dark days easier to bear. I’ve felt it personally, and witnessed it in the notes you’ve sent out with your bouquet orders to loved ones. I don’t ever want to live without flowers.

And so, when the fresh flowers were all but over and another national lockdown began, the studio of everlastings were woven into bouquets to carry on sending out flowers to whoever needed a little colour and beauty. Big ones, small ones, super tiny ones (the super-tiny ones are my absolute favourite ones to make and send - they never fail to make me smile). I’ve made it so you can order different sizes and colours, and will take that ability of choice into the fresh bouquet deliveries for you next year too.

The weather changed and we finally got a frost- I say ‘a’ because so far it’s just been that. A frost. And it was only a light ground frost at that. There hasn’t been a killing frost of the year here, the one that usually comes in October, and so there are still dahlias, even now, although I’ve mostly cut them back as one-by-one they began to succumb to the wet. But for what was lacking in the cold in November, was made up in mists; great big blankets of them, so thick, that they didn’t lift all day. A quietness fell all around them and made our world here feel so very small; it’s been an isolated year, and the mists made me feel it all the more acutely.

In nicer November news, I practised trying to make each layer in my arrangements beautiful, capturing each moment as I went, especially obsessing over the beauty in the mottled, changing leaves, and I love the pictures that came out of it.

After three years of searching, I sourced seeds last spring for Radicchio Rose Del Veneto, sown on my birthday in June, and by November, they were ready to harvest; all beautiful fully pink, in different shades from pearl, through blush, to magenta. They’ve been making the kitchen and the dishes coming out of it look so, so pretty, and they’ve been, hands-down, one of the loveliest things I’ve grown this year; I’ve been serving them with creamy lashings of mustard with home-made mayonnaise, and still haven’t gotten sick of it and it’s week 6 of it being a staple.

A moment behind the scenes, for it’s not all flowers here- there’s mud, making, and life happening too. I had a flurry of taped auditions, which were so good to work on after a long few months of drought on the acting-front, a drought that had been muddled with the awful fear that theatre and its participants might not survive this pandemic. A little hope was restored, and it felt indescribably good to flex that muscle again.

The honey harvested from our summer hives finally got jarred, and new growing spaces were created in corners and corridors, (wherever I could grab bits of earth that weren’t destined to be planted with more apple trees by my boyfriend. This is a continuous conversation that we contend with, and seeing as it’s his plot, he gets first dibs, so corners and corridors it is for now). One way of getting around this tussle for space was a truce in the form of 10,000 of my specialty narcissus bulbs to be planted under his trees. With the held of two extra pairs of hands, it was managed in one day, but my goodness I hurt for about a week after.

Large squares of canvas were painted with layers of natural lime colours from Bauwerk paint (so many beautiful shades to pick from) in between rain showers, to create backdrops for a project next year, that I’m so excited for. That’s all I’m allowed to say for now- under strict instructions from wiser, more powerful, and more experienced people, and I’m finding it almost unbearable not to be able to talk about it yet. It’s really good news I promise!

To avoid getting in trouble for letting my tongue get too loose, I’ll finish. So, on that tantalising note, November folded into December, and here we are with a very, very late set of notes from the field.