Chasing gold & revelations
Monday 2nd November. The pumpkin harvest. I have been leaving them as long as I possibly possibly dared. Most are ready but the Black Futsu are still black, not the tan that they are meant to go when they are ripe so I had been putting off the final cut. I had been planning that this would be an event, photographed in stages, styled piles of squash in the doorways and in the rusty trolley, gently back-lit by the November sun. In reality, I panic about the weather forecast which predicted a low of two degrees overnight and go out in my pyjamas, fitting as many as I can into the studio and piling the rest on the kitchen table. I find that someone in America had written a book all about squash and I try not to feel like someone has stolen my thunder. It is out of print, which maybe indicates that the world is ready for another one, or that really it is only me who is quite so fascinated by them.
Tuesday 3rd November. Morag’s sixth birthday. Many Instagram followers are intrigued by the fact that all our dogs get a pork pie and a candle on their birthdays. Yes, they have to share it with us, and each other (mindful of the respect food is due) and yes, we sing Happy Birthday. This means that, in true Pavlovian tradition, if you sing Happy Birthday around any of our dogs, they get incredibly excited and will probably try and wrestle you to the ground. The fact that they remember this even though we only have three dogs and therefore three birthdays a year tells you something about how much they value pork pies. I have just realised that we don’t celebrate each other’s birthdays nearly as much as the dogs’.
Wednesday 4th November. Something you are unlikely to know about me is that, at the age of thirteen or so, I managed to achieve Grade 4 in classical guitar. To this day, I have no idea how. I do not have a musical bone in my body and me and the guitar were particularly ill-suited. After weeks of my music teacher wincing through me murdering my examination piece, she presented me with a cassette tape of what it was meant to sound like when played by an actual musician who could actually play the guitar. The moment of realisation was like the sun coming out. So that is what it was meant to sound like. At least I knew what I was aiming for, and what possibilities for harmony there might be. Why am I telling you this? Because I had a very similar feeling when I went to the Hauser and Wirth today. I have spoken a bit about how my matrix planting hasn’t quite worked. It felt a bit jolty. Unsatisfying. Not quite gestalt, if you know what I mean. I stepped out of the big glass door into the Hauser & Wirth garden and went ‘oh, that’s what it is meant to feel like’. I walked round in that floaty way and left all inspired, as only the best gardens can leave you. My head is now full of where I’m going to put my drifts of grasses and I’m going to stop being rude about Dianthus carthusianorum.
I wasn’t even in Bruton for that; I was only there because I had a very exciting meeting with Caroline of Rag of Colts. If you know me, you’ll know I am practically a womble* when it comes to reusing bits of string, recycling packaging and cardboard, and making the most of the bits of paper I cut off belly bands for the sweet pea bundles (they make the binding for the Stocking Fillers if you are interested). As part of my ongoing obsession with natural dyeing, I have also fallen down the rabbit-hole that is furoshiki, the Japanese form of wrapping clothes and gifts in fabric. Originally, all my excitement was reserved for the fact that I will be dyeing an endlessly re-useable fabric alternative to all that paper and Sellotape at Christmas. And then I discovered furoshiki bags. I dyed a square of linen and then, with only three knots, I had a handbag. The only thing that is better than three knots, is two knots and a reused stirrup leather handle with big brass rings. And if you want old tack rescued and made into something beautiful, there is only one person you need to talk to, and that is Rag of Colts.
I have been a fan for ages, and I could not be more thrilled to be collaborating. The first prototypes have been made (we dithered about whether using copper rivets would mean we were mixing our metals, so terribly bad taste, so we settled on brass everything. I’m having the first one, obviously, and I have an over-sized square of heavy hemp in a soft gold dye bath, Cornell Bronze dahlias with a tiny touch of iron, destined for my winter wardrobe handbag. Fingers crossed we’ll have them ready for Christmas in boxes with fabric for you to dye, a copy of the dyeing ebook guide, and instructions about how to make up the bag. I was going to make them myself for you but even I can’t scour, mordant and dye that much fabric.
Natural dyed fabric gift wrap will be available ready dyed though, dye batches will be listed on the website throughout November and December. You're in luck if you like charcoal colours at Christmas; I’ve learned the hard way about modifying colours.
*Random fact number two of the newsletter, I was born in Wimbledon and my very earliest memory is of the windmill on Wimbledon Common.
Thursday 5th November. A touch of frost. Just a tiny tiny touch. The dahlias are spared but there is glitter in the grass.
Friday 6th November. I try willow for dyeing. The results are a revolting sharp, almost neon, yellow. It dries to a sort of lemon, which is an improvement, but really not by much. I am sticking to dahlias, which do proper gold. I feel the need to add that there is no filter on this picture, it is truly that bright.
Saturday 7th November. A flush of roses. I know I keep saying this, but there are more now than I think there were in August. And not just the whites and pale colours which I find do well when it isn’t so hot anyway, but every single plant seems to have something on it. They are growing through a bed of nasturtiums which also seem to be laughing off the chill in the air.
Sunday 8th November. I can’t make today sound glamorous. I celebrated the world being a little bit freer (Donald Trump is no longer the president of the USA) by packing socks. These were in the Gather shop and sold out almost immediately but if you missed them, you can get your hands on some at The Natural Dyeworks’ beautiful new website.
I am so lucky to have the support of so many and I am always grateful. I hope you are safe and well wherever you are, but especially if you are reading this in the USA.
