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Easter Eggs

The sweet sleepy expressions on these Easter Eggs inspire me to think of the potential of a single egg and imagethe special traditions which include eggs- particularly at Easter. Since the early 1600’s eggs were mentioned in connection with the Paschal Vigil which is called Holy Saturday, a religious ceremony commemorating the time when Christ lay in the tomb. The hard shell of the egg represented the stone of the tomb and the inward parts the symbol of rebirth, when a bird hatches from the hard eggshell with new life. The empty egg shell therefore represented the Resurrection; the empty eggshell is a reminder to Christians that Christ rose from the grave and that those who believe can experience life eternal. Easter Eggs or Paschal Eggs as they are often referred to in some cultures were given with a greeting ‘Christ has Risen’, the eggs were joyful gifts of these enduring beliefs in the Christian faith. And while they were not written about until the 1600’s historians believe that the custom of giving Easter Eggs dates back to Christians living in Mesopotamia, who stained the eggs red to symbolize the shed blood of Christ. Some cultures, particularly in Eastern Europe decorated eggs in elaborate ways, each color being symbolic of their faith. White for purity, Red for the Blood of Christ, Green for eternal life and Yellow or gold symbolic of Christ the King. (these colors vary in significance). Out of these traditions came the Easter Egg Roll or Easter Egg Hunts when the eggs were used to celebrate Christ’s Triumphant exit from the tomb. I love history and hope I have gotten this right, it was an interesting study for sure. I was never very good at dyeing Easter Eggs so this mix of naturally occurring colored eggs, the brown and white eggs are common and I bought the pale blue and aqua eggs from a friend who raises Aracana chickens whose eggs range from pale blue to deep olive green. All together they are so pretty! I really couldn’t decide which pictures to share so here are a few more…

 

Have a wonderful day and a very joyfilled Easter!

Love y’all, Camellia

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Lookin’ for Fame?

imageIt takes a lot of nerve to start a recording studio anywhere, to open up shop in Northwest Alabama along the Tennessee River amongst 4 small towns just a few hours from Nashville; but in 1959, Rick Hall started FAME Recording Studios with his buddies who ultimately opened another hit studio called Muscle Shoals Sound Studios. ‘The Shoals’ sound is as legendary as the musicians who recorded there.

Start your your journey into the heart of the Shoals sound with a trip to the Alabama Music Hall of Fame, lined with Gold Records and gawdy costumes worn by Alabama native Hank Williams, Tuskegee’s Lionel Richie, Fort Payne’s Alabama, The Commodores and Montgomery’s Nat ‘King’ Cole. Drive from there to Sheffield to the Muscle Shoals Sound Studio where the Swampers- the Fame’s original rhythm section  recorded with Lynard Skynard ~who can forget his hit- ‘Sweet Home Alabama’? Then there’s the Rolling Stones and Alicia Keyes just to name a few who  recorded hit music with the Swampers. Head over to Muscle Shoals to Rick Hall’s longest operating, one owner recording studio in the world, FAME Studio! Rick Hall is known as the ‘Father of the Muscle Shoals Sound’ – he recorded such great artists as Aretha Franklin, Wilson Pickett (Mustang Sally), Otis Redding, Duane Allman of the Allman Brothers who pitched a tent in the parking lot just to be near the recording sessions before he became famous! Known as ‘that hippie in the parking lot when record companies asked about his performance with Wilson Pickett’s rendition of ‘Hey Jude’; Paul Anka, the Osmunds, Tina Turner, the Beatles, Elton John, Ronnie Milsap, BB King, Tim McGraw…. whew the list goes on, just like the Muscle Shoals beat….and if that’s not enough?

‘The Father of the Blues’, W.C. Handy was born and raised just across the river in Florence Alabama where there is a statue in his honor, a museum and library ~ every year there is a W.C. Handy Music Festival as well.

Camellia thinks I’m gettin’ longwinded, I think we’re gonna have to have a part 2 on the Shoals! So much more to see and do…but remember this- when a good many of those musicians were down and out , thinking their careers were over- they got back their nerve and went to Muscle Shoals to find Fame! Hold it down Camellia, you’re singin’ so loud I can’t think! You might want to update your playlist folks!

Love y’all, Allie Mac

*must see: PBS- Muscle Shoals Documentary ,

http://amzn.to/1Sijlld

 

Posted on by camellia's cottage

In Praise of Wood Violets

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I found my first wood violet with curled heart shaped leaves, a few days ago.  Some call them ‘common’ or ‘wild’ violets, a landscaper informed me once that they were invasive weeds…yet where would we be ~ as gardeners without Violet’s lovely cultivated cousins- the Pansies and Johnny Jump Ups?? I have a huge patch of white wood violets and while I believe that white is probably more rare, the deep purple ones with etched centers are my favorites. A mere snapshot cannot capture its charm.

One of the sweetest ladies I have ever known loved the color purple, my grandmother favored it too. Purple is the color of royalty. A ‘seller of purple’ is mentioned by the name of Lydia in the New Testament. Purple fabric commanded a high price, the dye most likely was extracted from purple flowers ~ knowing that, we dare not place a low value on wood violet, her ancestors may have robed Kings and Queens.

If you take wild violet flowers, brush them with egg whites and dip them in sugar- when left to dry they make the most charming decoration for cakes and petit fours. Forage for them, boil the flowers down with water ~strain and add to a simple syrup, you have the makings of a Spring Tonic which is high in vitamin C.

And there is also this… the sentimental value. The memories of southern ladies I have known who cherished violets. In season, my grandmother kept wild violets in a tiny pale pink McCoy vase beside her, she loved to pick them she said. A bouquet of wood violets will only last a few hours, in water maybe a day. So I must praise the tiny wood violet ~touched by the Hand of God~ On my woodland stroll I found a wild violet low to the ground nestled near the roots of a huge tree- she was without ambition to be seen or admired.  The lesson of the tiny purple flower is this ~we may tread on its innocent beauty and not a sound of protest will be heard ~ the priceless fragrance of the wood violet would bless the shoe instead.

Love y’all, Camellia