THE BEGONIA BLOG

Wake up!

It's morning, and time to check all my begonias! My dwelling faces northeast and the bank of windows only catches the early morning sun for about an hour and a half. 

 

After that, it is just clear light, perfect for rex begonias, which I adore. They thrive in this exposure, but that early sun is powerful and I have learned they must be protected daily from that intense focus.

      

So while the rest of the world is waking up, I am putting my begonias to bed for a short nap!

Recently, I was offered an astonishing gift: an angel-wing begonia, from the plant that originally belonged to Mary Cleave's great-grandmother!

And who is Mary Cleave? She is a retired astronaut and the very first person I encountered after I had moved here about 4 years ago. We met in the library and immediately found many interests in common...when the subject of houseplants arose one day recently, she mentioned that she has been taking offshoots of her great-grandmother's begonia for years and would I like one? 

          

Oh yes, indeed, and here it is ...almost three feet tall, and already divided.

 

 

Fortunately, it lives in the far corner of the balcony that is shaded from the sun, so it doesn't need a nap.

Which is also true of the gorgeous red-leafed beauty that lives in the pottery swan in an equally well-shaded corner of the living-room.

My two escargot begonias are doing handsomely too...I remember when I first saw this variety, probably 20 years ago or so, in France.

They were very hard to find in this country at that time, and for years my mail-order purchases were very disappointing. Now voilà!: beautiful big healthy  plants, found in a local farm stand, and flourishing chez moi.

         

Everything else is pure impulse buying, and I have filled in with a few rich coleus which are thriving with casual attention.

But the angel-wing keeps me disciplined about feeding and watering. I am always happy to have Quimper pottery from the 19th century, and now I have a plant of similar provenance. C'est merveilleux!

DOLLS and PUPPETS: a melange of travels and collecting

 

We gathered all our funny faces: some perched on tables, some in bookshelves, the total being a result of travels and impulse buying: the people of many cultures. All seemed fit companions to our principal obsession: the folk, and the folk art, of Quimper!
Plus, they showcase the fabrics and costumes of the country, another of our passions!

 

Santons of Provence. These from a Brittany estate, bought at auction. They are true depictions of the Provencal folk,and the French love to use them as part of their Christmas. 

 

From our India journeys, puppets from Udaipur. Found in a tiny shop, we rescued the head from the old puppet-maker himself, before he gaudied it up with paint and tinsel. And placated him by buying the finished one we found in a corner.

 Nut head Dolls are an American folk art form that has rather died out. These two couples were bought from a famous doll collection that was auctioned off some years ago.

    "Hassan" is my affectionate name for this souvenir of Africa, found at a flea market in Brittany (the French are avid travellers to all parts of Africa). He represents one of the Tuareg, the "blue men" of  a Berber tribe, who wear this color to offset the UV rays of their intense sun. I named him for the only time I visited there : Marrakesh, where the real Hassan was a handsome young guide.

 

The Caribbean is full of  myths and creatures (like golliwogs) whose roots are African. This is a carnival figure that I love for his colorful gaudy clothing and direct connection to his African ancestry.

 

 

American family trio. Found in an antiques shop in Venice, Florida, a charming family trio, dressed in crisp blue-and-white (even the little teddy bear is nicely clothed), I found the composition of this group irresistible.

Fantasy Picture. Somehow, this seems to fit in with this grouping; it has a most intriguing history. It was painted by a young Jewish child who was one of a group gotten out of central Europe just before WW II started. An art teacher saved a number of the works they did in grade school: this is the very last of a whole group I acquired some years ago in Denver, where that teacher had just sold them to a good friend of mine. A remarkable journey for a remarkable souvenir!

    And thus does folk art endure: traditions and memories!