When Cousin Mary Frances broke up household in her later years, somehow I ended up with her dishes. (I used to think Cousin Mary Frances' first name was Cousin.) They were made by Frankoma, a pottery company in Oklahoma which took inspiration from nature, Native American arts, and the warm earth tones of the southwest. Frankoma dishes feel good. The cream pitcher fits so perfectly in the hollow of your hand that you want to hold it even after your coffee is swirling with white; the coffee cups have fun little ribs on the handles right where your thumb sits. The serving dishes are full-bellied, satisfying things. I love those dishes, and it's obvious that Cousin Mary Frances did, too. Some of them are chipped or have flaws in the glaze. The finish on the dinner plates is almost worn away in places. But that's all right. Many a good, southern meal of chicken and gravy with biscuits and greens and mashed potatoes was enjoyed on those plates. They aren't pristine antiques or fine china, but good heirloom dishes—dishes that are meant to be used.
Pristine is a rare quality around here these days. Untouched autumn scenes—at least in my garden—only exist at a distance.
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| The view all the way across the garden's long diagonal. |
Close up, though, you see just how used everything looks. The leaf-cutter bees have had a busy year.
They've been at the flowers, too.
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| Blackfoot daisies (Melampodium leucanthum) |
That's all right and proper, though, just like the brown leaf edges left over from the heat of July, and all the little tears made by one wind storm or another, and the transparent skeletons carved by the leaf rollers. No matter what gardeners prefer, leaves and flowers aren't meant by nature to be fine china, kept in the cupboard behind glass doors and looked at, except for when the right company comes over. They're meant for everyday ware. At the end of a long season, they look like many a good meal has been had from them. They're crazed and chipped and cracked. They're dinged up from weathering and wear and tear. But that's all right.
They were meant to be used.
those blackfoot daisies are an interesting and unusual colour. Apricot waltzing with terracotta.
ReplyDeleteDiana, the color in the photos is actually a quirk of my garden that I don't know how to compensate for--the early morning sunlight reflecting off of terra cotta colored walls and turning EVERYTHING orange-ish. The daisies are really a bright white.
DeleteYou are right that in autumn, the garden looks beautiful at a distance, but up close you can see the chips and flaws. I love that you compared this to dishes. Since so many bugs eat out of our gardens, I now realize this is only to be expected. I won't be disappointed in my autumn garden anymore - I'll know that many mouths have been fed from it.
ReplyDeleteMany, MANY mouths, Holley! And they're all wondering what's on offer for dessert. (If only they'd ever offer to help with the washing up...)
DeleteYou are so right...our gardens are meant to be used by nature and I love wandering and finding these leafcutter used leaves...it makes me happy to have the company to sup at my garden!
ReplyDeleteDonna, I always think it's a good sign that the garden is in balance when you can look at eaten leaves and be glad that some living thing has enjoyed a good party out of them. My first year or two here the trees were stripped completely bare, and I wasn't quite so philosophical about the bugs!
DeleteWhat a great analogy with the dishes, our gardens are here to be used :-) And thank heavens for deciduous shrubs and perennials, at least they start all over again in pristine condition next year!
ReplyDeleteHelene, yes, those weeks of spring are wonderful when all the leaves are still perfect and fresh!
DeleteFrankoma, a familiar name for me, as I've lived many years in Oklahoma. I wonder if its named after Frank from Oklahoma. I know him! You know the wore out guy.
ReplyDeleteGreggo, when I was in Vermont and trying to replace one of the bowls, an antique dealer just sniffed at me and said, "Frankoma's a western thing." And that was that.
DeleteThe wore out guy? Who's that?
I totally understand your affection for your crockery. An old mug has often provided comfort during difficult times, held warmly for a while longer after the tea has finished.
ReplyDeleteThere is something about holding certain mugs that just satisfies at a very deep level, b-a-g.
DeleteA great way to accept the seasonal gardens wrinkles! You made me laugh at myself as I have discarded many a photo because of 'holes' in the foliage!!
ReplyDeleteKaren, I am impressed that you ever managed to find any foliage without holes in it this time of year! You're a more patient woman than I!
DeleteWhat a beautiful post Stacy, and I completely agree, about crockery and plants. I've never seen the point in hiding your most attractive crockery away and rarely using it anyway, seems such a waste to me, beautiful things are meant to be used and enjoyed, and your inherited pottery sounds full of heart and soul, enhancing any meal.
ReplyDeleteI always get really excited when I see signs of leaf cutters in the garden, ever since I found their immaculate cigar rolls one day and found out what they were. I hope I have them in this new garden...
Nevertheless Stacy, those leaf-cutters eh? Terribly naughty. (Love that diagonal shot. BIG garden!). Dave
ReplyDeleteHi Stacy, I completely and utterly agree. I'm so used so seeing sumptuous roses with the odd brown petal, osteospermums with a notch out of the pinwheel and holes in the elegant dicentra where bees have made a shortcut that the perfectly formed, cultivated flowers in the supermarket have an almost artificial and plastic look about them. In my best pictures I have taken, there is the odd aphid on the stem, a pollen beetle hiding behind the stamens or a bit of rust on the leaf, it's not perfect, it's natural and that's how I mean it to be.
ReplyDelete