Thank you Downton Abbey for reminding me of my blessed heritage with your beautiful season finale

Last night, Hubby and I watched the season 4 finale of Downton Abbey. Toward the end of the episode the staff has a day off at the seaside. The scenes were composed and shot simply yet beautifully—directing and cinematography done very well produce such stellar results (as seen below).

During these scenes at the beach, two characters (Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson) go wading in the chilly surf. The almost dialogue-free exchange was charming and heartwarming.

I know when I'm watching great television when I have the experience of being emotionally and/or mentally transported to something very personal. And this particular scene did just that. I found myself recalling old family photographs from albums over 100 years old of my great-great grandmother, Jessie Rae Munce, wading in the California surf with her granddaughters and daughter in the summer of 1910.

Jessie was 68 years old in the above photograph. And like the water that the characters on Downton Abbey were wading in, I'm certain that the Pacific waters were quite chilly on Jessie's feet (water temperatures along the northern coast of California are never really warm).

When I found this photograph of Jessie, I fell in love with its candidness and frivolity—a "pull up your skirts girls because no one cares" sort of attitude. It represents an interesting time in history when things were changing. I am certain that my transplanted Scottish grandmother, her daughters, and her granddaughters were right there leading the way here in the San Francisco Bay Area. Their faces in the above photo tell me that. They're modern leanings are also evident in the fact that even though they weren't wealthy, they still had a camera with them at what seems like every family outing and then paid the money to have the film processed and printed.

Today, thanks to that wonderfully produced episode of Downton Abbey, my heart is full of gratitude for so much of what I owe to my incredible forebears.

Jessie and her husband, John, made difficult sacrifices to come to the U.S. from Glasgow, Scotland in the 1870s. John came first, leaving Jessie behind with 4 children. Jessie came later wrangling those 4 children on her own. John's job as a metalworker with a railroad company allowed them to work their way across the United States from the east coast to the west coast having 2 children along the way in New York and Indiana (how hard must that have been for Jessie?). Their last 4 children were born in the San Francisco Bay Area. Their youngest was my great grandfather, William Munce, who ended up marrying Elsie Pump (pictured above) and their oldest was my grandmother (aka Grammy) Elsie Munce (the kid playing in the sand not looking at the camera in the above photo).

It is because of Jessie and John that I can happily say I am a 4th generation Bay Area native. I was privileged to be born a U.S. citizen because of them. I was blessed to love the sea, the beach and the coast because of them. I am certain that I even owe my love of photography to them because of their love of it over 100 years ago.

Yes, I know I've witnessed great television when all this emotion and gratitude can be inspired by it.

The history of my love of greeting cards and stationery

Did you know that I have birthday cards from my first birthday? No kidding. I've loved them all these mumble-ty-mumble years. I have my birthday cards from just about every childhood birthday. They are all neatly mounted in a scrapbook on my shelf here in the studio. I take them out periodically to look at them.

Sounds weird? It's par for the course with me. Let me explain...

My parents got a super 8mm movie camera a few months before I was born, so all my first milestones (as well as my siblings firsts) were recorded on film. My mom painstakingly went through and spliced together our films along the way so we had long reels to watch whenever us kids could get her to drag out the projector for family night.

One of those home movies shows me on my first Christmas when I could open presents myself. The scene goes like this... I open a card that's attached to a present and am mesmerized by it. I can't read, but I pretend I can. I turn it over and over in my hands looking at every side of the folded card. From off camera, my mom steps in and coaxes me to open the still wrapped present sitting next to me on the floor. I open the gift, discover a beautiful handmade terry cloth robe with shiny satin turquoise trim. I throw the robe aside on the floor. I dig around in the tissue paper to see what else is there. Then I rummage around in the pile of wrapping paper, tissue paper and clothing box to find my greeting card again and resume "reading" it as I was doing before I was so "rudely" interrupted by the mundane task of opening presents. *harumph*

See?!?! I've always loved greeting cards! Any stationery really.

I eventually warmed up to the robe...

... See! I'm wearing it as I'm delirious
with excitement over drawing
with colored pencils (okay...
I just blinked, that's all)

My Grammy used to handwrite letters to me from the time I was toddler. She had a wonderful assortment of kiddy-friendly stationery she wrote on. I loved those stationery designs. As soon as I could write, I wanted my own assortment of stationery so I could write letters too. Sometimes I loved the art on the stationery so much that it made me ache inside to write on it and send it away.

Yeah, I'm a dyed-in-the-wool stationery lover.

I guess it stands to reason that I would end up designing stationery as an adult. You're probably thinking, "Yeah! That would be no brainer!" But it took me a while to come to that conclusion on my own. Now that I have, I feel like I've come "home".

I launched my new Etsy shop this last week, Rosehaven Cottage Stationers Fine Printables at www.RosehavenCottagePrintables.com. I've launched a line of professionally personalized print-your-own invitations (and other stationery). If you want to read how it works click here.

I've been having so much fun adding new designs. Some I've had in the back of my head for a while, but others are inspired by people that ask about a specific type of design they've been looking for. I LOVE when people give me special requests. That's all I need to get a creative spark and I'm off and creating! Keep those suggestions coming!

The new watermark I designed for www.RosehavenCottagePrintables.com

In only a couple of hours the mystery has been solved!

I just LOVE technology! In a matter of hours, one comment from one person solved a mystery that's been bugging me for years (see the post below or click here to read it).

Thanks to Elaine I now know that this photo is of the Bernheimer Oriental Gardens in Pacific Palisades, California.

Once Elaine gave me a name, I was able to do a quick Google search and I found the following photograph at CardCow.com

Those elephants are definitely the same statuary in the photograph taken by my grandmother (below).

From www.image-archeology.com:

Bernheimer Residence and Oriental Japanese Gardens Pacific Palisades & Hollywood, California

16980 Sunset Blvd, Pacific Palisades, California Bernheimer Residence and Gardens In 1924 Adolph Bernheimer leased the Pacific Palisades location, which was being used as a mule camp in the construction of highways. Adolph supervised every detail of building the complex of oriental structures as his personal residence. It housed his ancient oriental collection. It also was a horticultural showplace. The Bernheimer Gardens flourished as a tourist attraction until 1941, averaging 5,000 visitors a week. World War II was a factor in its fall from grace -- because it was oriental and because Adolph Bernheimer was of German origin. This triggered contempt and led to vandalism. Adolph's passing in 1944, financial difficulties and land erosion, caused the Oriental Gardens to slip into a state of disrepair. The property was vacated in the late 1940s and the treasures were sold at auction in 1951. All of the structures were demolished in the early 1950s. An apartment complex was built at the West End of the property and the rest of the property is still vacant land. The above map is from a Bernheimer Oriental Gardens brochure (see full brochure below). Thanks to Mary Louise for providing this history; various sources used.

It looks like Hubby and I won't be taking any road trips to see this beautiful landmark. We're both sad that it no longer exists.

Want to help solve a mystery? Identify the California landmark in these photos from the 1930s

My Grammy was quite the shutterbug. And, for the most part, she was really good about organizing her photos chronologically in nice neat photo albums (you know the kind with the thick construction paper pages and photo squares to secure the corners of the photos). In the late 1930s, as a single woman in her 20's she did a few road trips that she documented photographically and then put into a small album that surfaced a few years ago.

Here's where the mystery comes in...

She failed to label one section of photographs in the little album and I have no idea where they were taken.

Here's what I do know:

• The photos are definitely from one particular road trip.
• Based on proximity to other labeled photos and the ages of the people in the photos the trip happened around 1937-1939.
• She took the trip with her widowed father and kid brother. The destination appears to have been Sequoia National Forest based on the photo below (the sign says, "Boundary Sequoia National Forest").

• The road trip started in Oakland, California. I know from the photo above that they definitely visited the Sequoia National Forest in central California (see the map below) while on the road trip.

• The Asian gardens in the photographs I've included in this post must have been located somewhere in central or southern-central California.
• The first photograph (above) looks like the gardens may have been along the coast of California.
• The sub-tropical plants in the photos of the Asian gardens indicate that the elevation isn't high enough for the climate to get a lot of winter frost and probably not any snow.

Can you help solve the mystery? Does anything in these photographs look familiar?

I would love to know if these gardens still exist, so Hubby and I could take our own road trip to visit them. The statuary in the photographs is amazing. I wonder if any of it still exists.

Look at the elephant statuary crossing the bridge (below)

Preserves

Some things are just meant to be preserved
Luscious juicy berries picked right out of the garden

Recipes on yellowed paper written in fountain pen
Memories of the women who wrote them

And Let Your Cry Be No Surrender...

If you will indulge me, please let me introduce you to my Irish-Scottish third great-grandfather, James Munce--a published poet in his homeland of Donaghadee in County Down, Ireland and later Glasgow in Scotland. I have recently become acquainted with one of his poems that has a repeating phrase in it which has become my personal mantra as I move forward in the face of the challenges of life. For me, the title of the poem should be "Let Your Cry Be No Surrender" but he chose the title "To A Melancholy Companion" probably because that was the original reason for the poem.

I shared this poem with my Auntie this week, and today I felt like I needed to share this poem here on the blog.

To A Melancholy Companion
by James Munce
copyright 1881

It’s cowardice to fear the world,
To dread its frown or court its favour;
Still act an honest manly part,
And shame it with your good behavior.
Keep in the path o’rectitude,
No matter how you may offend her,
With truth and honour on your side,
And let your cry be no surrender.

Let factions fight and bigots rail,
They’ll only have their day o’ power;
The empty titles here obtained
The teeth o’ time will soon devour;
Let all actions have a grace,
Approv’d of by your great Commander,
A harmless walk, a holy aim,
And let your cry be no surrender.

Tho’ care may sometimes cloud your brow,
Be not cast down or seem dejected;
The hand which holds the reins of State,
By it ye’ll always be protected.
With fearless spirit face the foe,
And bear the lash when Heaven sends her,
And from an honest noble deed
Still let your cry be no surrender.

Why should you murmur at your lot--
You cannot mend it by repining;
Although the cloud appeareth dark
It always has a silver lining.
In envy, malice, fraud, or filth
Let no such guests in you engender;
Forget, forgive, and onwards steer,
And let your cry be no surrender.

You may not aye hae cash tae spare
To help a friend who seeks to borrow,
But you can always sympathise
With friend or stranger when in sorrow.
Still act an open, manly part,
And scorn the name of false pretender;
Should faith or friendship seem to fail,
Then raise the cry of no surrender.

Let fortune frown and use her lash,
Try with a cheerful smile to mock it,
Still persevere ‘gainst wind and tide,
Altho’ you have empty pocket.
Still let your heart enjoy that peace,
The gift which Heaven alone can send her;
Should pride or passion interfere,
Then let your cry be no surrender.

And never try to rouse yourself
By pointing out another’s failing.
The weak, the weary, and oppress’d,
Give them what aid you’r fit to render;
Be generous even to a fault,
But let your cry be no surrender.

I fondly hope from this ye’ll see
The path you tread is one of folly,
At state or station to repine,
And wear a look of melancholy;
Forsake the path that hides your bliss,
Stand forward as your faith’s defender,
Maintain your ground and face the foe,
And let your cry be no surrender.

My dear blog friends... whatever your foe may be today, may you maintain your ground and let your cry be, "No Surrender!".

The Love Runs Deep (200th post)

I had already planned to write about these two photos today before I realized it would mark the milestone of being the 200th post. Now the post seems even more appropriate for the occasion.

The two photos I'm sharing in today's post are of my great-grandparents, El and Bill Munce. I am very fortunate to have hundreds of candid photos like this of them, their families, their outings, their lives, and their silliness.

These two particular photos are part of the early part of an antique album that is in the loving care of my aunt. The album spans the entire 16 years of their marriage (their marriage ended prematurely due to El's tragic death after the birth of their youngest son).

The photos were taken around 1910 here on the rolling hillsides of the San Francisco Bay Area with my great-grandparents' simple little portable camera of the time (hence the slight blur in the photo of El). If the photos were in color, the hills would probably be a lovely green because that's when the wildflowers that Bill and El were out hunting and picking would have been in bloom--probably sometime around March.

Bill was a lover of gardening, grafting, planting, growing, and roses. I love this photo of him with an armload of wildflowers. This is my kind of man. The photo of El with the armful of flowers seems expected, but not the one of Bill. It's literally a snapshot in time--a special moment between two young honeymooners captured in perpetuity. I can imagine them out as a couple traipsing these hills I love so much. I can imagine their excitement at taking the snapshots and then their anxious anticipation for when they would get the photos developed so they could relive the moment.

I'm glad they captured this moment. Somehow it gives me a sense of who I am. I feel a connection to them, to these hills, to the flowers. It all helps me feel grounded, rooted. My heart swells with a gratitude for the legacy they have left--a legacy of loving nature and gardens that has been passed down through their daughter to her daughter to me.

I garden in almost the same climate as my great-grandfather gardened in only a half-hour drive away from where he gardened. When I am out in my garden tending my fruit trees, pruning my roses, or tying up my climbing vegetables, I feel him near. I've seen so many photos of his garden, I know it is much like my own.

Thank you, Grandad, for being the man that you were. Thank you for loving all the things that I love, especially the roses. Thank you, Grandma El, for loving the flowers and for loving nature so much that you hiked the hills and valleys in those dresses you had to wear. And thank you, both, for loving each other as deeply as you did.

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