The scents of the season
Every evening before I go to sleep, I open the bedroom window and breathe in the scents of the season.
In front of me lie the meadows where sheep often graze, and I can see the large tree by the gate which, before too long, will once again be beautifully full of leaves.
On these March days, I can smell the gentleness of spring, the manure my neighbour spread across the fields with his tractor, and the scent of stoves warming these still chilly evenings.
On clear evenings, I see countless stars, and when the moon is full, a warm glow shines across the meadows and fields opposite my house, softly illuminating them.
As I stand there before going to bed, I already look forward to tomorrow, when at first light I can once again wander along the old paths beside those fields.
Now that the sun rises early
All of a sudden, spring is all around us, and memories of those wintry showers and grey days quickly begin to fade.
Now that the sun rises early once again, I set off at first light with Charlie and Jimmy. As we walk past my neighbour’s house, hares dart off in every direction.
Jimmy, with his runaway hunting instinct, pulls and struggles to get to the hares, while I struggle to keep him under control. Only once Jimmy is convinced that all the hares are safely tucked away in their burrows again can we continue our walk a little more peacefully.
My neighbour’s fields display the old-fashioned sight of warm manure ‘steaming’ in the crisp morning air. Birds are chirping all around me, and here and there snowdrops and crocuses are in bloom. On the trees and shrubs, I can see buds cautiously emerging, as though they still cannot quite believe that spring has truly returned.
The early light makes the façades of the houses in old Thorn glow an even brighter white, while the morning sun sends its rays through the narrow old streets. This time, the cobblestones are not glistening with rain, but with the reflection of the still gentle sunshine touching the ground here and there.
The greenhouse dressed in a fresh spring look
A March breeze, still chilly in the morning, blows through the garden as I step outside in a coat and scarf to begin getting the garden back into shape. My eye falls on the garden house we put up at the beginning of May last year.
The greenhouse has brought us so much pleasure throughout the year. Of course, as a greenhouse for growing tomatoes, cucumbers and gherkins, but afterwards also as a cosy space decorated for autumn and Christmas.
And then suddenly I felt the stirrings of spring and imagined the greenhouse dressed in a fresh spring look.
At the florist’s, I bought small pots of hyacinth bulbs and white grape hyacinths. I separated the bulbs so that I could fill lots of little pots with them. Pots… A glance into my china cupboard gave me an idea, because what could feel more fresh and spring-like than my old blue-and-white crockery? The bulbs were divided among old teacups, bowls, little milk jugs and a soup tureen.
As I arranged everything nicely on the table in the greenhouse, the sun happily joined in. Cosily warm behind the glass, I was doing what I love most. Charlie and Jimmy were probably wondering who was coming for tea. Perhaps those hares from my neighbour’s little field?
What do you think of it? My spring greenhouse, created with just €10 worth of materials and two hours of work?
The blossom drifting down
Now that I had fully caught the spirit of spring, and with a touch of wistfulness removed all the autumnal and winter branches from the house, I went in search of some beautiful, subtle spring greenery.
Once again, I dragged a few branches home from nature, dividing them among the sturdy wooden pots I have dotted around the house.
Charlie, and especially Jimmy, watched in amazement and followed me everywhere as I transformed everything into a spring atmosphere. I do not mind the blossom drifting down now and then. I like my home to feel lived in, and during the daily round with the vacuum cleaner, it is easily tidied away again.
Voor de grote houten potten kocht ik een paar kersenbloesemtakken die met hun stevige, robuuste stengels en uitlopende bloesem een natuurlijke lentesfeer geven aan de keuken.
My camera captures the smallest details
Perhaps you have already seen it appear on Instagram. Recently, I have been photographing an old windmill that is waiting for a new lease of life.
The Sint Odamolen has stood beside a canal for 142 years and has for some time been lonely and abandoned, with peeling paint, mould on the interior walls and moss covering the outside walls.
Its sails hang there unused and forlorn. In strong winds, they pull against the thick steel cables as though they want to break free so that, after many years, they might finally be allowed to turn once again.
Fortunately, this windmill has found a new owner who is saving it from decay and ruin. Soon, the mill will be restored, the window frames will be freshly painted once more, the moss and mould will be removed, and those sails will once again be free to turn through the air.
Photographing in and around the mill feels like a beautiful journey back in time for me.
Dressed in old clothes and a warm coat, I step inside this ancient mill. Dampness and an icy chill greet me as I carefully climb the old stairs and step back into the past.
For this mill remains completely authentic and breathes the atmosphere of times gone by. It feels as though a cheerful miller could walk in at any moment. Only when I lift the latches from the doors and let the light stream inside can I truly see the treasures this old mill holds.
Wooden staircases, beautifully worn smooth by the millers who once climbed them up and down in their clogs. They must certainly have done it far more deftly than I do now. Carefully, I climb to the next floor, where my shoes touch old wooden boards covered in the dust of many years. Back in the days of the miller’s clogs, those floors would not have been coated in dust, but in a fine layer of flour drifting down as the sails, on milling days, produced their familiar and rhythmic rumble.
My camera captures the smallest details, and while photographing, I am compelled to truly look around me and take everything in. Here too, my love of styling stirs, creating a certain atmosphere that gently carries you back to the past.
And so I treated this lonely windmill to a touch of spring styling as well, hoping that the millers of the past would have approved and perhaps even taken a seat at the little spring table to share a cup of coffee with me, their feet tucked into those beautiful old wooden clogs.
I imagine you would like to see more of this windmill, as well as the atmospheric styling I created there during the winter.
If so, do take a look at the windmill’s Instagram account.
And if you would do me the great kindness of following along, thank you so much!
Enjoy the beauty of spring around us
I wish you all a wonderful month of March and hope you enjoy all the beauty of spring around us, the light, the buds on the trees, and your cup of coffee outside on the terrace.
Are you already following me on Instagram? I share many more stories and photographs there, and videos connected to this blog will also appear there soon.
Love,
Tanya
“It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.” — Charles Dickens, Great Expectations
