Ipsden altar frontal: lavender

A little pocket of summer has burst its lovely contents upon us over the last few days the culminating enjoyment of which was an afternoon drive through the leafy byways of the Chilterns as we attempted to deliver a friend to the new Garsington opera venue at Wormsley, near Stokenchurch without using the M40. And now we know why the directions suggested the motorway. As the crow flies the distance from our house to Wormsley is short but in chalk country the crossing of soft bosomy land is by no means straightforward.

Ipsden altar frontal: lavender

Ipsden altar frontal: lavender

Innocent looking minor roads on the map funnel into deep cuttings through beech woods where passing places are minimal and dappled sunlight delights but disturbs a driver’s vision. The car bounces from woodland caverns into those peculiarly English hedge tunnels, where road side vegetation is so established as to have formed overhead vaults of intertwined trees suggestive of being sucked headlong down a rabbit hole, like Alice’s white rabbit*. Signage of the fingerpost variety is not exactly helpful as each white sign is tiny and thus only readable once passed. But we only went wrong once and only stopped for directions just the once (sending our opera goer – minus his flowing Ikat robe and dressed in a sober grey suit – off to a house with a marquee from which we fantasised he would never return, having swirled the bride off for an impromtu waltz before delivering an off the cuff speech and enchanting half the guests.) He did return – we were almost there – and ten minutes later we dropped him off at the cricket pavilion (as you do with outdoor opera in England in summer!). All very wonderful.

I embroidered this lavender earlier in the summer when it wasn’t fully out. It is glorious now and of a very intense colour.

* “Quite how unique hedgerows are to Britain is not sufficiently appreciated. For example, the ‘tunnels’ sometimes formed by roadside hedges, notably in the south, are almost unknown in other parts of the world.” [John Wright: A Natural History of the Hedgerow (Profile Books, 2016) – an interesting though rather dense read for lovers of hedgerows,]

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Ipsden altar frontal: a red rose

Weeks spent refining, reducing and reallocating possessions still leave us with  more than can be easily fitted into our little artisan’s cottage in Islington. Visits to charity shops and the local authority tip are a daily occurrence, the incinerator thrums constantly with the burning of a couple of lifetimes of bank statements and long-kept, but now useless documents and dithering has been replaced by curt and sometimes brutal decisiveness. (We do, however, still have a trunk full of children’s cuddly toys and Playmobil sets in plenty, all boxed up and awaiting a grandchild of the right age.  Who would have the heart to give a Sylvanian Family narrow (canal) boat  to charity after a nearly 30 year stint on  dark shelf?) But on we press.

Ipsden altar frontal: the rose

Ipsden altar frontal: the rose

Here is a rose I embroidered for the altar frontal. I’m not entirely happy with it  but having just read India Knight in the Sunday Times on how bad we women are for explaining how substandard our labours are, I shall say no more. Roses are difficult to render with a needle. If you would like to see some of the other roses I’ve embroidered do look here (rose wedding monogram), here (Arts and Craft style rose christening monogram) or here  (roses on a little girl’s cardigan) & here (more roses on a child’s cardigan). If you are curious about death by rose petals, do read here.

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