Scottish Adventures: Falkland Palace and Garden

June 29, 2016 | ehpyle

view through window at falkland palace

One thing I noticed on my trip to Scotland was that Mary Queen of Scots seems to have visited/lived in/spent some amount of time at many historic sites. (A little like hearing “George Washington slept here” up and down the U.S. east coast.) In the case of Falkland Palace, it was quite true, as Falkland Palace was a favorite spot for hunting for nobility of all types from the 12th until the 17th century, and Mary was no exception.

falkland house scotland

In the early 16th century, the old castle was tranformed into a renaissance palace by James IV and James V (Mary’s father) who added a royal tennis court, which I know is called “court tennis” in the USA and apparently called “real tennis” on the internet. (Looks like a lot of fun to play!)

at falkland palace 2

The palace later fell into ruin, but in the late 19th century, the property was partially restored by John Patrick Crichton-Stuart, 3rd Marquess of Bute. These days, Falkland Palace is maintained by the National Trust for Scotland, and is a delight to visit.

falkland house garden scotland

The Royal tennis court is still there, and still in use, though I did not take any photos. I was too distracted by the sparrows dipping in and out and all around, and by all the beautiful gardens outside.

at falkland palace

I also missed a photo of the giant outdoor chess set, which kept my children busy, enabling me to take all these photos, and making it a great place to visit for all ages.

Scottish Adventures: Stirling

June 28, 2016June 28, 2016 | ehpyle

hillside roses bottle branch blog — Roses growing wild near Stirling castle, Scotland

When I started this blog, my plan was to stick with a narrow focus – creative projects and inspiration. But now, a few years later, things are different.

I’ve started a small business and a lot of my creative energy is going into that – keeping my online shop fresh, coming up with new cards and prints, and best of all, keeping interesting plants in my garden so I always have fresh botanical inspiration. Aside from my garden, those other creative endeavours don’t lend themselves to thoughtful blog posts, and besides, they have their own little space on the internet.

So, I’ve decided to open up this space a little, and post about other topics, and today, I’d like to share a little about my recent family trip to Scotland. I’d be honored if you’d stick around – there are landscapes, castles, and, of course, gardens and plants.

landscape around sterling scotland

With a home base in Stirling, we were in the thick of some of big moments in Scottish history, including the Battle of Bannockburn where Robert Bruce defeated King Edward II of England in 1314, and the Battle of Stirling Bridge, which was woefully misrepresented in the movie Braveheart as we learned more than once. With boys in tow, we visited both sites, of course!

highland cows grazing below stirling castle

streets of Stirling… uphill to the castle!

running to the monument at Bannockburn

Scottish countryside

We also regularly enjoyed the dramatic views of Stirling castle and the highland cows grazing beneath it. Sadly, I did not get a good photo of the castle which is quite dramatic in the landscape, perched high up on a crags. (Its easy to find one online.)

view from Stirling Castle — One view from Stirling castle

Dating mostly from the 15th and 16th centuries, Stirling castle served at royal residence to James IV, V, VI of Scotland. Mary, Queen of Scots, was crowned there and Bonnie Prince Charlie beseiged it. (Not exactly in that order, of course!) So I’ll stop there – having me try to recount Scottish history will do none of us any good. Suffice it to say that Stiring castle played a key role in much of Scottish history, and it was a delight to explore; my boys spent a lot of time discussing paraphets, keeps and murder holes.

We also visited the museum of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders within Stirling castle. They could have easily landed one new recruit, but for the barrier of his being only ten years old, and a US citizen.

P1040283

We also took several day trips, visiting St. Andrews, Falkland Palace and Garden, and the Royal Botanic Garden in Edinburgh, among other places. Stay tuned, if you want to hear more … I’ll be posting those later in the week. In the meantime, here was my favorite personal discovery in our adventures in and around Stirling: wild woodland foxgloves growing along the path to the Wallace monument.

woodland foxglove bottle branch blog

Confessions of a lucet owner

June 14, 2015 | ehpyle

Have I told you I’m the owner of a lucet? Probably not. It’s not the kind of thing that comes up in conversation. Or blogging. Also, it’s not exactly the coolest subject. But here it is – a simple little tool used to make cording.

On a trip to colonial Williamsburg last summer, I first caught site of a lucet, alongside thread winders, knotting shuttles, and other nearly-obsolete notions. Like this 18th century ‘pocket book‘, I knew I had to give the lucet a try.

I bought mine here, and struggled with various online tutorials to figure out how to use it. (If you ever find yourself wanting to learn, I liked this tutorial.) Most recently, I used my lucet on this embroidered felt needle book.

If you’re a regular reader, the embroidery will look familiar to you. This one, I made for myself, so I could throw out the plastic bag I’ve been using to store embroidery needles.

I jumped into the project without fully planning it. In the end, I had managed to design and execute the entire needle book without considering how it would be held closed when not in use. That’s where the lucet comes in.

I found a button to apply to one side and then used my lucet to make a little cord loop to go over the button. So there you go, it might be a bit frumpy and obscure, but that little lucet came in handy after all.

On historically-inspired embroidery, and moving from project to project.

March 27, 2015April 16, 2015 | ehpyle

Are you familiar with the children’s book, If you give a Mouse a Cookie ? It concerns a pesky little mouse who moves from one activity to another, eating a snack, cutting his hair, drawing pictures, and more, until he eventually comes full circle, back to the first activity of eating a snack.

Lately, I’ve been feeling like that mouse, as one project inspires to another project, which then leads to another project. (Also, there has been snacking, but that’s not what this post is about.)

A few weeks ago, I posted about these embroidery patterns, drawn by my three-times great grandmother in the early 1800’s. I neglected to mention that I was working on this stitching project based on one of those patterns.

Initially, I was excited to work with all white treads on the colored linen, to lighten and simplify, and to adapt the design, rather than re-create historic work. I had planned to stitch most of the historic design, including, the elegantly looping dots, which are clearly meant to be French knots. But after writing the post on the history of these designs, and looking more carefully at historic embroidery, I’m already thinking about what I will do differently next time.

The whitework example I have from my 3rd great grandmother is more fully filled with satin stitch, rather than executed it in the open stitches I’ve used in my piece. In fact, I’m guessing this whitework might also be considered crewel work, since the threads look like wool. And there are other examples of historic embroidery here and here and here.

Though I’ve learned from it, I’m abandoning this, my first historically inspired embroidery piece. Only, I won’t exactly abandon it. The embroidery is finished enough to make into something, and, in keeping with the historic needlework theme, I decided to make a reticule (O.K., a drawstring bag).

That’s when I started to feel like that mouse in the story, because in planning how to make this bag, I was drawn into another creative project. And it was not snacking-related. That project will be the subject of a separate upcoming post.

Update on March 29th:

My eminently wise and more-historically-knowledgeable mother says:

“ I don’t think EBVH’s embroidery could possibly be done in wool because it wouldn’t have survived on the Eastern Shore with the moth problem that is endemic. I think it is far more likely that the thread is hand-processed linen. Modern machine-processed linen is smooth and has a sheen because the short hairy strands are removed. Historically, I think, because the processing was done by hand, shorter strands remained and gave a hairier look to the thread. That may be what you are seeing.”

She’s probably right.

Bargello pocketbook

March 10, 2015 | ehpyle

Remember this? Last October, I stitched this bargello – a modern, multicolored, aspiring-to-be-Jonathan Adler bargello. After I posted it, I tucked it away for later, not quite sure what to so with it. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I had a vague vision of a clutch purse type of bag, but it turns out, I don’t need a fancy needlepoint clutch. (Already have one and I’m not fancy enough to use it very often.)

Wool needlepoint pocketbook. — Wool needlepoint pocketbook from colonial williamsburg.

Only when I revisited my photos from a summer trip to colonial Williamsburg did I know why I had this idea was lodged in my brain. Look at this hand-stitched 18^thcentury pocketbook (photo above), used by the ladies of colonial Williamsburg to store scissors, needles and other sewing notions.

That was when I knew I had to make my own 21^st century version. As someone who typically throws an extra needle and a pair of scissors in the bottom of a canvas tote bag, drops her needlework on top, and then periodically struggles to untangle metal bits from thread, I found the idea of having an organized case for the small notions deeply appealing.

I particularly liked the idea of stitching it entirely by hand and using all natural materials, as in the 18th century, so I used wool twill tape to bind the edges, and 100% wool felt to line it. The only place I cheated was in using a lighter, thinner rayon to form the gussets that allow the pocketbook to open a bit wider. (I was hoping they would fold in more easily for closing.)

When it came time to engineer a method to keep it closed, I hemmed and hawed again. In other projects, I have used magnetic snaps or velcro. I like the convenience of both of these closures but each has their drawbacks, too. (Velcro obscures a large area of the needlework and can also snag threads if not carefully placed; Snaps sometimes open too easily.)

So, again, I consulted the work of the Williamsburg ladies and decided to try twill tape ties for closure. They are certainly not as convenient, but they leave no mark on the needlework and can always be removed and replaced with some small miracle of the 20^th century like velcro.

There it is, tied up and ready to go. Now, I am excited to put this pocketbook to use and move on the new projects. The first of which might just have to be a needlecase, so I can get rid of the plastic bag I’m currently using to store my needles.

Dreaming of the past and 19th century whitework

February 17, 2015March 26, 2015 | ehpyle

In June, I wrote about growing up in an 1830’s house filled with antiques and artifacts – top hats, handkerchiefs, tortise shell combs, musty books, and one delicately-embroidered whitework petticoat. After that post, my mother gave me a box of aged papers – embroidery designs, hand-drawn by my several-times-great grandmother, the creator of the whitework petticoat.

I’m not sure why it’s taken me so long to write about these designs, because I was pretty excited to leaf through the box. The papers are yellowed, and crackly and the drawings are light, sweet, charming.

Many are hand-sketched in pencil, others in ink, and two are printed designs, clipped from an unidentified publication. So, when I recently stumbled across this post by E.K. Duncan on regency embroidery patterns in Ackerman’s repository, I knew it was time to sit down and write about this little cache of history.

Published in London from 1809-1829, Ackerman’s Repository was an influential journal that covered arts, literature, commerce, manufactures, fashions, and politics. As needlework was still quite fashionable at that time, Ackerman’s included a needle work design, or as listed above, a muslin pattern. (Hat tip to Jennifer Jermantowicz for compiling this handy index to Ackerman’s repository, and to archive.org for making this amazing resource available to everyone!)

The relationship between the Ackerman’s designs and these hand-drawn designs is clear. Both show medallions, fantastical flowers, and dainty scalloped edges.

from Ackerman’s Repository

hand-drawn by Elizabeth Victor Hammond

from Ackerman’s Repository

needlework by Elizabeth Victor Hammond ca 1820

The creator of these drawings and the petticoat, Elizabeth Victor Hammond, lived 1800-1870. After she found herself a widow in 1832, she moved from a nearby farm to what became our family house in a small Maryland town. In the late 1970s, living in the same house, my parents found the drawings packed in a wooden box, along with the petticoat, Elizabeth’s wedding shoes (dated 1820), another piece of whitework, and a few unfinished pieces of a brown calico quilt.

That’s the story of these objects, as I know it. As for Elizabeth Victor Hammond, she spent the rest of her life in the same house, with leisure enough to engage in needlework but certainly not at the height of fashion. She never remarried, outlived three of her four children, but lived to see her youngest son prosper as the town’s doctor.

I know those rough outlines of Elizabeth Victor Hammond’s life, but when I handle those tiny delicate shoes, or sift through those drawings, I yearn to know more, to see how she handled and cared for these objects, to feel the texture of her life. In The Hare with Amber Eyes, Edmund deWaal traces the history of his grandmother’s family through objects, specifically a collection of Japanese netsuke. At the outset of this book, deWaal writes,

“I want to know what the relationship has been between this wooden object that I’m rolling between my fingers… and where it has been.… I want to walk into each room where this object has lived, to feel the volume of the space, to know what pictures were on the walls, how the light fell from the windows. And I want to know who’s hands it has been in, and what they felt about it, and thought about it – if they thought about it. I want to know what it has witnessed.”

So, what about all those papers filled with carefully rendered designs? Were these the cherished creations of Elizabeth Victor Hammond’s youth, saved and carried to her new home? Were they packed up after the death of her husband, when she moved to town, and then left in the attic? Or was embroidery a lifelong occupation and pastime? Did she continue to design and stitch whitework later in life, even as styles changed?

And what about that petticoat? Since it was stored with her wedding shoes, I like to imagine she wore it on her wedding day in 1820. Did she wear it under a gown like this? Or this? Or this? Or possibly under many different gowns at different times in her life? What else did she stitch? Handkerchiefs? Waistcoats? A reticule like one of these?

However she wore the petticoat and whatever these objects meant to Elizabeth in her lifetime, these papers, petticoat, and slippers are a source of mystery and inspiration in mine.

Williamsburg Embroidery

August 28, 2014February 24, 2015 | ehpyle

If we’re connected on social media, you’ll know that I recenty visited Colonial Williamsburg with my favorite eight-year-old patriot and one of his older brothers, who prefers to remain more anonymous.

In case you’ve never heard of Colonial Williamsburg, its a non-profit organization and outdoor living history museum consisting of 18th century shops, homes, gardens, out buildings, taverns, government buildings. As capitol of the Virginia colonies in the 1700’s, Williamsburg was a hot bed of political activity before, during and after the American Revolution. Yes, George Washington undoubtedly slept there. Thomas Jefferson too.

Today, Colonial Williamsburg is populated with a staff of historically attired re-enactors who work, play, and intrigue in the 18th century style – discussing politics, cooking meals, forming militias, selling 18th century goods in shops, and crafting all manner of 18th century essentials, like wigs, tin cups, and wooden barrels. Every day, at 10am, they storm the Governor’s Palace, and there’s Revolution in the Streets at noon.

My little patriot got to try his hand at kitchen chores, military training, and 18th century children’s games. We all got to see shoes constructed by a cobbler, spoons hammered out by a silver smith, and watch an outdoor performance of Moliere’s Scapin that was so inventive and silly that it held my 8 year old’s attention.

work in progress at the milliner's shop — work in progress at the milliner’s shop

Above all, my favorite Williamsburg activity was our trip to the Milliner’s shop, where they were working on embroidery projects. I dragged my little patriot there early one morning, while his elder brother slept in.

Thankfully, even 18th century stores are prepared to keep children entertained while their mothers browse. A kind seamstress (milliner’s apprentice?!) pulled out a basket of historically correct children’s activities. They embarked on a reproduction puzzle of the monarchs of England, from William I (1066 -ish) to George III (1770 -ish).

I was so busy asking questions and gawking at the embroidery projects, that I didn’t take nearly enough photos, and neglected to document the good ladies’ names. Yet here are some of the hand made needlework projects I saw there.

Wool needlepoint pocketbook.

Edged with wool tape and lined with linen.

A wool pocket book, suitable for 18th century men and women, edged with wool tape, and lined with linen, with rag paper in between to add structure and stiffness. I love the scalloped edge of the top flap and the way it closes with ties.

Case for spectacles, line with wool and leather and hand-stitched with a awl. — Case for spectacles, lined with wool and leather and hand-stitched with an awl.

Likewise, this spectacle case is edged in wool tape and closes with ties, but it was made with a leather inside to help hold the shape and prtect those precious spectacles.

I also learned about bone thread winders, knotting shuttles, and a lucet. I negleted to take photos of the beautiful crewel works in progress, the embroidered silk handbag on display, or how to use the lucet to make squared silk cord. But I did emerge with an book recommendation: 18th Century Embroidery Techniques by Gail Marsh

I’ve just borrowed a copy from my local library and I’m enthralled. Who knew that “pattern-drawer” was an occupation in the 18th century? Doubtless the ladies of the milliner’s shop did, but now I do too. I don’t plan on stitching any spangled waistcoats, but if I do, I’ll have the Colonial Williamsburg staff to thank, and you’ll be the first to hear about it.

Inspiring embroidery on an antique petticoat

June 23, 2014February 24, 2015 | ehpyle

Hello there! I’ve missed you!

I haven’t been doing much in the way of making things, but I’ve been travelling. Specifically, I’ve been visiting an old family home in Maryland.

An 1830’s structure with green shutters and a mottled stucco exterior, the house has been handed down for several generations, becoming a repository for forsaken objects. Dusty books molder in shelves and boxes; odd candlesticks share shelf space with 1970’s antiques magazines, and creaky cabinets harbor old porcelain pitchers, webbed with thin spidery cracks.

IMG_2994 copy — And old photo of the house, taken in wintertime

When I was a child I liked to linger over traces and fragments left by the ladies of long ago. There was a dresser overstuffed with feminine artifacts: tiny crystal perfume bottles with silver tops, hand-edged handkerchiefs, kid gloves, and a tiny envelope of golden brown curls, labeled “Adeline” in a looping and faded script. I don’t know what happened to these items, but on my most recent visit, I came across an embroidered petticoat, shown here.

Though the fabric is rumpled and yellowed with age, the embroidery is very much intact, with French knots, satin stitch and other elegant stitches I can’t name. The finely wrought flowers work their way up from a delicate scalloped hemline. White embroidery on the white linen, it is lovely and timeless work.

And it inspires me. Time to dust off my own embroidery supplies and try my hand at a new project. I’m thrilled to be back on this blog and look forward to connecting with you soon, dear readers.

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