Shades of Grey/Gray

Last month I told you about my dining room redecoration plan here.
I'm amazed that it's been almost eight years since I painted the dining room. After some quick changes from gold to red and then back to linen white - I've lived happily with this until now. The change is imminent - we're turning grey! French Grey of course. Subtle French Country grey, not too dark, not too blue. The French seem to have a knack for mixing and blending the most beautiful greys for those historic village houses and magnificent chateaux.


Packing up the china is a full time job. Small boxes are the secret for easy lifting.

The wallpaper border will come down. Curtain pole may stay this color - grey blends well with cream, ivory and gold touches, all neutrals.

Have you ever had to choose grey paint? You enter the paint store. You stand ready for action at the display.....to make the perfect choice.....to pick your French Grey. Hesitation creeps in, you breathe heavily as you pick one little card with several greys in a line. You stick it back in the display, too blue? You pull out another, much too dark. This one looks good until you hold it next to white....this grey turns beige. Do you know that paint chips slowly evolve from stark white through what seems like another thousand shades of white before you hit the greys or grays. Then you are faced with warm greys and cool greys. Blue greys and green greys.

In your mind's eye you know exactly the shade you are seeking - finding it is harder than you expected.

Come back tomorrow.................perhaps by then I'll have found the right color!

Misty-eyed Morning........

...............along the Devon coast.

My last stay in my hometown of Torquay was in the Autumn of 2007. The days were mainly dry and pleasant and I would awake to a perfect sunrise. Standing at the window of the apartment where we stay, I would hold my breathe as the sun turned the bay to molten gold and the horizon clouds appeared as imaginary mountains as I looked toward France.

On this misty-eyed morning I was up and out early just before the rain came. Rubbing away sleep, tossing on a rain jacket (whoever would travel to England without one!) and walking shoes, I headed through the archway to the road along the beach. There were a few early mornings when a sudden squall would head in from the English Channel and swirl briskly around the bay.

It came so fast, tossing the spray over the seawall. Blowing flapping seagulls and cormorants off course. Throwing bunches of slimy seaweed on the pathway.

The beach huts, already battened down for the Winter, rattled in the wind. Next to them the little cafe which still opened daily for breakfast, stacked up the outdoor chairs and tables. Nobody would eat outside until later. Across the bay the shoreline was just visible ~ it is where my childhood home still stands.

I hurried along the road as the wind picked up, shielding my camera from the sea spray, and ducked into the rather ornate beach shelter ~ these Grecian style columns have stood here since I was a child. As quick as it came, the storm left. The sun came out beyond Thatcher Rock and I proceeded to the headland and climbed higher for the beautiful view.

Retracing my footsteps to the other end of the beach road, I climbed again through a steep, rocky cliff walk, looking back to catch the deserted cafe below, and the end of the Edwardian crescent where the apartment has become my new Devon home when I visit.


The sun brought color back to the sandstone cliffs. The waters of the bay calmed and turned to blue. Soon the small towns, and beyond them the countryside, could be seen more clearly through somewhat misty eyes. There definitely is no place like one's true home.
******

AND THE WINNER IS..................????????

Many thanks to all who entered my 500th post giveaway.
I am always thrilled to hear from each of you. I know it's hard to comment constantly. When one first starts a blog you struggle to 'be known' because you feel someone out there needs to read what you write, look at your photos, share your interests etc. It doesn't take long before many wonderful friends are leaving comments and you try hard to reciprocate. Blogging does take time if you enjoy posting several times a week. 500 posts have taken me 2 years but it feels much longer. In that time I have met so many great people. Some I will never meet in person, others I've already met and it's always been fun.

So in celebration of all those hours spent on those 500 posts........despite my dh's constant "Mary, it's 2 AM shouldn't you be in bed".


...........I am happy to name the winner of my British goodies...........
NANCY at Knitting Paths of Life

Congratulations dear Nancy. I'll be packing your parcel and sending it North very soon.

What a difference.....

...............a week can make. Especially in the garden.

The Hydrangeas by the front porch just over a week ago.

The Hydrangeas as the sun came back and the temperature reached into the high 60's.

Some day, before Spring, they will be pruned......these big, dried heads of the 'mophead' Hydrangeas disguising themselves as snowballs ~ a phenomenon in the South.

Then hopefully they will slowly bud. Those fat buds will burst into new lime green blooms. Then around May they will sing the blues and stay to share their loveliness until Fall when the cycle will continue.

One of my very favorite shrubs, the Hydrangea Macrophylla ~ 'Endless Summer'.

~~~ A REMINDER ~~~
Today is the last day for leaving a comment on my 500th Post Giveaway here.

I will be drawing the winner's name tomorrow.

Pink Saturday

~~ HAPPY PINK SATURDAY ~~

Looks like everything is really coming up ~~~PINK~~~ roses this week, including my own dried roses above which I was able to magically change from yellow to pink just for this occasion!!

..............look at the cute lamp with the little girl in her very pink frock.

My visit to SuzAnna's Antiques the week before last, before an unusual Southern snow covered everything in their outdoor area and turned it white, found me snapping away inside at pink roses.................silk ones, fabric printed ones, framed ones, even beaded ones.

BTW - SuzAnna's now has a blog as well as their web site ~ visit their fun blog written, photographed and produced by the talented Jenny (Susie's daughter) of the Red Bulletin Board, here at SuzAnna's Antiques


Do stop over to visit our fun hostess Beverly today ~ and there at How Sweet the Sound you will find enough to really be tickled pink!

Friday's Favorite Family Foto

Girls day out in London town..................

How wonderful to be surprised by a long lost photo of oneself. Can I sneak these in as favorite family photos? In the batch of photos recently received from my cousin in England, following the death of our last Aunt, there was this one among her possessions.

It was taken in 1953 in Trafalgar Square in London, home of the tall column bearing the statue of Britain's famous naval hero Admiral Lord Nelson, and a million hungry pigeons. Oddly enough I was on a visit to that same Aunt, and Uncle (my mother's twin) who lived in London. Can you believe I was put on a steam train in Devon, at such a young age, and sent off on my holiday! Guess they met me at Paddington Station following the 200 mile trip. Life must have been so much safer in the 'olden days' as our kids call them! The little girl, named Jacqueline, was the daughter of their neighbors.

Now, glance down at our feet. What do you see? Just as I told you recently, EVERY British child wore Clark's sandals....and this photo proves it!

Wait for it, story doesn't end there. I already had in my possession this second photo taken at the same time. As you can see, I was quite popular with the pigeons!

I remember this coat so well. My mother made it from a length of beautiful dark teal wool with a waffle texture. I also remember the pin I'm wearing. It was a little golden metal book which opened and several miniature b/w photos of Queen Elizabeth II folded out - it was a memento of her coronation held on June 2, 1953, a few months before my trip to London.

Visit our FFF hostess Deborah at Pictures, Pots & Pens to see more great family photos.

A True Queen....and a lost tag

Some time back I was tagged by Dixie at French Lique for a blog game where you were to pick the 4th photo in your 4th folder..............and the rest of it I can't recall!! Sorry Dixie, I can't find the instructions so am just winging it here, showing the contents of that folder! I'd tried to do it earlier but was having posting problems and thought these pics had flown away into cyberspace, however, I see them back again, so will at least write a little something about them now!

My treasured set of commemorative stamps.

Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother, late mother of our present Queen Elizabeth II, was honored with this set of postage stamps in 1990 to honor her 90th birthday. She led an exemplary life at the side of her husband George VI after he unexpectedly became King when his brother Edward VIII abdicated in order to marry the American divorcée, Wallis Simpson. During World War II her indomitable spirit provided moral support to the British public, and in recognition of her role as a propaganda tool, Hitler described her as "the most dangerous woman in Europe".

I have always admired this beautiful lady. Her role as the matriarch of the Royal Family made her consistently popular with the British public................when other 'royals' were misbehaving!

I was also proud knowing that my mother, when working for a royal dressmaker in London, actually assisted in creating clothing for the then Queen during the 1930's.

Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother passed away March 2002, aged 101, at Windsor Castle, just seven weeks after her younger daughter Princess Margaret died. During the year of her death she was ranked 61st in the 100 Greatest Britons poll.

Hautpoul ~ Village Médiéval

The formidable fortress of Hautpoul sat high on a mountain at the extreme edge of a mass of rocks overlooking the Arnette valley. Founded in 413 by the king of the Visigoths, Ataulphe I, it was then rebuilt in 936 by the founder of the House of Hautpoul, whose lords gave themselves the title of 'Kings of the Black Mountain'. During the crusade against the Cathars, Simon de Montfort took over this village stronghold in 1212, and after four days of siege, he demolished the castle in order to "reduce this heretic den to nothing". Hautpoul is one of the places where, according to legend, the holy grail was temporarily hidden. The village inhabitants who survived settled in the plains, and the town of Mazamet was born.

As we headed toward Mazamet on a lovely October afternoon, the sudden appearance of the village of Hautpoul, high above on the side of the Montagne Noire, was too mysterious not to want a closer look, so we doubled back and drove the winding road to the top.

The hills and surrounding mountains were still very green and heavily forested with sweet chestnut and spruce trees.

At the top of the mountain, the large statue of Mary dominates the area.

Walking through the village we met not a soul and it was rather eerie. Apparently restoration work in recent years has brought life back to the village making it a venue for Summer festivals. There were obviously some permanent residents quietly tucked away in the lovely stone houses, and artisans have workshops and studios......but they were not open on that late Autumn afternoon.

The village laverie where clothing could be washed.

Ancient Sweet Chestnut tree just starting to wear an Autumn gown.

Even the tavern was closed ~ not a drop of anything to quench a thirst!

I loved this shop sign swinging high above the town in the valley.

My favorite village house with the tallest roses ever.

France is a large country and has so many lovely historic villages in each distinct area.

I'll share some more later.

Mazamet, France

I'm taking you on another visit to Southwestern France.

This time we are in Mazamet which started as a textile center in 1586 manufacturing woollen blankets called 'cordelots'.

Later, in the second half of the 19th century, the growth of the wool industry was thwarted by problems in the local supply (from Provence and the Languedoc) of raw materials so sheepskins were imported from Argentina, and later Australia, New Zealand and South Africa. By 1930, importation of sheepskins (50,000 tons a year) made Mazamet an influential town in French international trade.

Mazamet nestles in the Arnette River valley beneath the

Montagne Noire.

Stunning windows and a lovely woman.

Perhaps you think these images were captured in one of Mazamet's beautiful mansions built for the wealthy wool merchants. No, this was the local tourist information office! Only in France would a public building house such beauty and make it available to travelers stopping in to pick up a brochure or ask directions. The young lady behind the desk was delightful also ~ she loved speaking English to us and was most helpful.

A vintage album open to show old photos of the town.

No practical contemporary fluorescent lighting fixtures here ~ gorgeous chandeliers and the loveliest ceiling rose I've ever seen.

Look at the hand painted tiled floor, the gold table legs and the antique books.
Don't you agree this is a beautiful public space? It makes me think that vandalism and thievery does not exist in France, well at least not here.

Houses built on the very edge of the river.

Overlooking Mazamet from Hautpoul.

Next time I will take you to the Cathar village of Hautpoul perched high above the town. The history is amazing and the village, though austere from the distance, beckons to you as you drive below the dark wooded hills on the road to Mazamet.........and you have to back track up through the steep hills along a winding road. See you there at the top soon.