A Midwinter walk

At the end of my last post I mentioned that Bess had only climbed into the lower branches of the faux fir twice since putting the thing up on the 15th of December. We were already getting our hopes up for next year, thinking it might be safe to start using our fragile vintage baubles again ... Well, what can I say? How wrong we could have been! 

While we were having lunch last Thursday, we suddenly heard a rustling and a tinkling of bells - there are two tiny gold-tone bells among our cat-proof decs - and sure enough, our fickle feline had climbed and installed herself three-quarters up the tree, from where she sat looking at us as if butter wouldn't melt.

Although my blog hasn't even reached Christmas yet, I couldn't possibly not share the photos she willingly posed for, and it definitely wouldn't do to publish them mid-January when all thoughts of Christmas have long been banished. She's been in there on a daily basis ever since, dislodging branches left, right and centre, and I've got a funny feeling we'll be obliged to dismantle the tree well before 12th Night comes around.

Excuse all this going back and forth in the time machine, but after that brief intermission, let us return to Saturday the 16th of December.

My journal, which has once again been my saviour, tells me it was a grey and chilly, yet dry day, with the mercury nudging the double digits.

I plucked another vintage dress with a generous wool content out of my wardrobe. I fell for the rather unusual mix of leopard and zebra in its print in a charity shop almost exactly two years to the day. 

I opted for berry shades for its companions: the wide stretchy belt,  beaded necklace and chunky long-line cardigan by the Belgian high end label Hampton Bays were charity shopped over the years, while the ceramic leaping deer brooch was a flea market find. 

My outfit was bookended by a red Kangol beret and a pair of burgundy boots from Think Twice.

I've included a close-up of my patterned opaques, which were a sales bargain from haberdashery and accessories chain Veritas.

I spent the morning tackling some overdue chores and dusted the blue room, landing and most of the bedroom until it was time for lunch.

Oh, and I photographed my latest € 4 Think Twice buys, starting with an instant outfit in the form of a label-less Western style tartan blouse and a peasant-style skirt, the tattered remains of whose label proclaims that it was made in France and is a 50/50% wool and polyester blend.

I also grabbed this rust brown, green, yellow and white striped men's scarf for Jos, who has been wearing it on a daily basis ever since. What's more, he willingly posed in it in front of our local charity shop, which is where we were headed after lunch. The tan corduroy hat he is wearing was gifted to him by one of his many acquaintances from the village.

We were on the lookout for a small bin for our fruit and veg waste, so that we wouldn't have to venture outside to the compost heap all the time. Of course, the charity shop obliged! What's more, there was quite a choice, from which we selected a small purple brushed metal pedal bin, which was in perfect condition apart from the tiniest of dents.

While we were there, it would have been downright criminal not to browse the clothing aisles, where I found this pair of - again virtually unused - suede grey and olive green boots.

The weather looked much more promising on Sunday, when sunshine and blue sky did away with the clouds mid-morning. A persistent wind made it feel chillier than the forecasted highs of 8°C, so that I changed my thin bottle green King Louie cardigan for a chunkier one after we'd made these photos.

Underneath I was wearing a vintage psychedelic shift dress in shades of brown on white. In order to tame its tie collar, I pinned it with a sparkly peach coloured brooch. People are usually incredulous when I tell them it isn't vintage, but picked up brand new at H&M in the early noughties! I've even seen its sisters sold as vintage on flea markets.

My moss green suede belt was charity shopped, while both the pale peach flower corsage and my tan boots were supplied by the high street. The latter, too, were exchanged for a more sturdy and slightly scuffed pair before we left the house to go for a long-overdue walk.

Tossing around a couple of walking destinations during lunch, most of which were discarded as being too muddy after all the rain the weather gods had sent our way lately, we decided to drive down to Den Brandt, one of the cluster of parks to the south of the city of Antwerp.

Creatures of habit that we are, we parked our car in a quiet side street around the corner and entered the park through the public picking garden, now quite bare and sparse looking apart from some hardy yet straggling herbs hanging on for dear life.

The poor Gautam Buddha was still sitting in the gras next to his perch, from which he was separated many months ago. 

His offerings were rather sparse too: a small sprig of ivy, a bright pink bloom, a braided ribbon, a coin-shaped pendant on a shoestring and a black plastic button.  A kindly soul had made him a lovely crown of flowering Rosemary tied with red ribbon.

The low and dazzling Midwinter sunshine had been soaking up some of the moisture from the saturated soil and was hazing the horizon as we climbed the steps into park.

We were somewhat out of our depths at first, our feet and limbs rusty from being out of practice. We were feeling strangely lightheaded as, putting our weight on to our walking sticks, we shielded our eyes from the blinding rays of the sun.

Among the desiccated reeds, the bronzed bracken and the gold and russet leafed carpet at our feet, the evergreen shrubs and pine trees stood out quite outlandishly.

I added complementing colours with my outerwear: the moss green and tan double-breasted textured wool jacket I snapped up from Think Twice at the end of September, belted with a retail buy tan leather belt, a tan beret and ditto handbag - both charity shopped - and an Autumnal hued scarf bought from H&M back in the mists of time.

The skeleton trees, contrasting starkly with the wedgwood blue sky, were catching the sun between their twisted branches. 

Then, suddenly, our first glimpse of the romantic late-classical castle, at first glance looking like a freshly and perfectly iced cake, until a closer look puts paid to that illusion as the cracks and fault-lines become apparent. They're currently renovating the so-called English cottage which is part of the estate, so hopefully the castle itself is next on the agenda?

We walked along the sweeping lawn at the back of the castle, well away from the edge of the moat which was overgrown with rampant reeds. Just before crossing the bridge and walking to the French-inspired parterre at the front, I snapped this photo of the top half of the castle rising - Manderley-style - above a bank of rhododendrons. 

Our last visit before returning to our car was to the "Dancing Nymphs", who have been reeling around the fountain in front of the castle since the park opened to the public in 1911. Purchased by the city of Antwerp at the 1910 World Fair in Brussels, and officially called the "Three Graces", these mad-looking maidens with their demonic grimaces were created by German sculptor Walter Schott.

The fountain has been lying dormant for quite a few years now, but at least the rain had filled its base with water, providing a mirror for the maidens to preen themselves in. 

Meanwhile, my Christmas break has come and gone in the blink of an eye, and I actually had to go back to work today. 

I've still got a lot of catching up to do, though, as blog-wise 2023 isn't over just yet ... I will be back with Twixmas tales in a couple of days.

Happy New Year!