Some time ago I wrote about planning my little garden, and my desire to have flowers that I could use to complement my favourite tablesetting .
I simply adore this dinner set. It is unapologetically itself. It is neither neutral nor shy, but its exuberance brings me a lot of joy when I see it.
As more experienced gardeners realise, apart from providing water and nutrients, a lot of success in the garden is in the hands of both nature and time. I have visited my plants daily, finding delight in seeing the progress of each plant as it grows and matures, and marvelling at the progress that occurs in the space of just a few hours.
Last Friday afternoon I was delighted to see the culmination of my planning; rosy red ranunculus, purple-blue grape hyacinth and the last of the white anemones. I picked the tiniest of posies, and set my table, stepped back and felt such a rush of achievement. It looked as lovely as I had hoped it would.
It looks so lovely together., but I think next time I will add in a touch of butter yellow to the posy. Later in the week after this photo was taken my pale yellow nasturstium flowered, so that could be a good option to add in.
It is a very tiny posy that brings a huge sense of accomplishment.
It was such a small thing, really, but perhaps you know that feeling too — when something you have been working towards finally comes together. Nobody else would necessarily recognise it as an achievement, but you do.
I didn’t take into consideration that the blooming periods of each of these plants wouldn’t intersect quite as I had hoped, so as the anemones are finishing, the ranunculus are just getting going, but I am chalking this up to learning. Perhaps for next spring I will also plant red anemones, and white ranunculus to extend my ‘dinner plate season’. If you’re a more experienced gardener than I am, you’re probably several steps ahead of me here. I’m learning as I go, which is half the fun.
For my summer blooms I have planted a miniature red rose, poppies, Feverfew seeds, which have just sprouted, and some cornflowers. Again I will have the mix of red, white and blue that I want, and the anticipation of more “dinner plate posies” makes me happy.
All the above is fabulous, but I have now introduced a slight, well complication isn’t really the right word, but it will do in the absence of any other, in that I have bought a new dinner set, and it is neither red, nor white, nor blue.
I know, I know, I didn’t need yet another stack of crockery.
Firstly, where on earth am I going to store it? That’s a good question, and you asked it very well. And once I know, you’ll know, but for now, it is decorating the top of my sideboard where I can peep at it when I hang laundry on the clothes airer. (good drying days cannot come fast enough for me)
But, it is so lovely, and it was so well priced, and it seemed so apt for The Willows, how could I reasonably be expected to resist?
You’re right, I couldn’t be expected to do so.
So I didn’t.
This dinner set was made around 1930 or so, and it is fitting, is it not, to have such an item for a house built in 1930?
I saw this for sale early on Saturday morning, on Facebook Marketplace, and I knew resistance was futile. As soon as I saw the ad I was planning garden parties, Sunday lunches, a solo cup of tea and a slice of lemon drizzle cake on the deck as a pick-me-up, and to give me the credit I feel that I deserve, I did wait a full two hours before I sent the usual “Is this still available” message.
But, as you can predict, by morning tea time, this beauty was securely packed in the back of the car, on the way to its new home. And by early afternoon it was dress-up time. I pulled out a selection of my tablecloths and felt gratified with how well this new dinner set worked with most of them, and it was fun seeing how the personality of the set changed with each different colour it was placed on.
My favourite combination was with the mid-blue cloth followed interestingly enough by the rust-brown one. The mid-blue cloth is only a small runner, so I will keep my eyes peeled for a tablecloth of a similar hue next time I go op-shopping to really bring that particular colour way to life.
And now, of course, I've not only opened up the possibilities for future gathering themes, but given myself an entirely new colour palette to play with in the garden.
Which means more seeds. More flowers. More plans.
Perhaps that's what these little wins really are.
Not grand achievements or dramatic transformations, but those moments when something you imagined months ago finally appears in front of you — even if only as a tiny posy on the table.
I wonder what your version of that is?
Perhaps something has finally flowered in your garden. You've made the loaf of bread you've been meaning to try, finished painting the spare room, kept up your morning walks, or finally invited someone over for that cup of tea you've been talking about for months.
Things that probably won't make anyone else's list of great achievements, but make you think, I did that.
Those wins count too.
Mine just happened to involve three kinds of flowers and, somewhat unexpectedly, another dinner set.
