The return of silence

Life is noisy and chaotic, a cacophony comprised of layer upon layer of modern and ancient sound alike. Having lived in large cities for much of the past decade, I had at once developed the ability to filter out certain ever-present noises and yet also become acutely aware of others.

Tucked twenty-three stories above the world in Toronto, one might have thought that we'd be free of most of the sounds of the urban jungle, affected only by the tinkerings, comings and goings, and parties of our neighbours, but such was not the case at all. Perched directly above the busiest highway in all of Canada (the 401), our cement tower could scarcely block out a dog's bark at ground level, let alone the incessant stream of harried traffic that hurried past every moment of the day.

There are many elements of city life that I love, but noise pollution is not one of them. Even in other metropolises I'd called home over the years, none had come close to being as clogged with constant sound (at least on my respective streets) as our home in Toronto was. Some days you might find that you barely noticed the honks, tire squeals, whoosh of vehicles, and loud pedestrians, on others - especially if your nerves were frayed or you were ill - you'd find that every last pin drop seemed to be magnified tenfold.

In this deafening environment I yearned for a great sense of peace, for air that was still and sweet, placid and busied only by the rustle of the breeze through a leafy branch. It was with no small amount of joy then that I embraced and relished the fact that our new home is located on a street so hushed, especially at night, that at times it feels as though the whole neighbourhood has taken a vow of silence.

 

{Precisely the sort of uninterrupted, grandly wonderful quietude I missed intensely for many years before returning to the Okanagan Valley earlier this year. “Winter Sunrise, Sierra Nevada, from Lone Pine, California, 1944” by Ansel Adams.}

 

This quaint street (which, having coincidentally lived on it many years ago, I already knew was sublimely serene) has but one lane of traffic coming and going in each direction. It winds it way a tad past our home and continues onto a small retirement community and a golf course, two of the most tranquil places one could ever hope to have as their neighbours.

As the evening grows later and the heady, passionately lovely scent of honeysuckle wafts through the air, I find myself almost moved to tears as I venture outdoors and am embraced by calmness.

A few cars still mosey about, somewhere in the distance a sprinkle plays its tell tale "tis-tis-tis" melody, and the little creek right across the street babbles gently. A black and white cat tiptoes across the grey pavement still enticingly warm from the afternoon sun, and a child scurries past in the blink of an eye on their bicycle, but that is it, and as the night grows older, the quietness that permeates this lovely parcel of the town will only intensify.

There are many blessings in life, but I've come to realize over the years that few are as powerful, captivating, and thoroughly important as being granted (even if only once in a while) the gift of silence all around you.

Alone with my thoughts, the early summer heat, and the creek's exquisite lullaby, I am filled with the sort of joy that stems straight from the soul and which can only be matched by the immeasurable beauty of this renewed discovery of serenity itself.

Not your run-of-the-mill 1940s potato salad recipe

Today, the summer solstice and the very longest of the year, has always been one of my absolute favourites. I find there is a powerful energy and sense of excitement that flows through its every moment, and rarely is there a year that I don't stay up until at least midnight so as to experience every last moment of this fantastic day. 

From now until late September, we're under summer's sway again. It's hot, piercingly bright, sometimes languid, sometimes manic days of vibrancy, excitement, vitality, and - quite often - meals that are so simple, perfect, and unfussy as to scarcely warrant a recipe.

Cold cuts, platters of freshly picked and sliced (undesirably delicious) fruit still subtly warm from the tree, generously sized green salads bursting with a rainbow's worth of hues, leftovers of all kinds eaten straight from the fridge, Italian ice, garden gathered produce, and of course all of the sublimely enticing fare that comes part and parcel with barbeques, cookouts, and picnics.

In the case of the later, one of my favourite dishes to make and bring along is potato salad. Aside from my mom's fantastic recipe that I grew up with, I rarely make exactly the same potato salad twice. As with my pasta salads of the season, I like to use whatever is to hand and that I think will marry well together. Sometimes I opt for German style potato salads, others I smoother my spuds in a creamy dressing. At times fresh mint, a few peas, and olive oil are all it takes, or maybe the opposite is true and I pull out all the bells and whistles.

There's really no right or wrong when it comes to potato salad, so long as your 'tatoes are well cooked (but still a bit firm), and you ensure any dish with eggs and/or other highly perishable ingredients is properly refrigerated at all times (other than while eating, of course!). Over the years I've tried everything from an idea I came up with for pizza potato salad (fabulous!) to several vintage recipes culled from the web and my collection of mid-century cookbooks.

Most have been quite nice, though I do sometimes find myself further jazzing up those from the 30s, 40s, and 50s (and/or scaling back the copious amount of mayo in their recipes). Today's recipe from 1945 for Chef's Potato Salad is already guised up quite nicely though - so much so, that some folks may wish to remove various ingredients (forgoing the canned lunch meat will make it vegetarian, for example).

 

{Toss everything but the kitchen sink into this yummy 1940s potato salad recipe, it's a great way to use up leftovers and cut down on the amount of time spent over the kitchen stove. Vintage recipe scan via Eudaemonius on Flickr.}

Whether you try it out as is (I'd use low sodium lunch meat, if possible, as the salt and cheese should already be salty enough) or play around a bit, this is an excellent summertime dish that can just as easily be the star of the show (aka, a meal unto itself) as a highly enjoyable side dish at a party, backyard feast, or picnic.

I'd be tempted to skip the canned meat, increase the cheese a little, trade the celery for sliced gherkins (a perpetual fave of mine), and toss in a small handful of fresh chives or parsley. You could also introduce tomatoes, leftover meats, tuna (or another seafood), nuts (almonds perhaps), or some fresh-off-the-cob corn.

Dishes like wonderful 1940s potato salad are not meant to be overly serious or formal affairs, they're fun, filling, versatile summertime meals that work every bit as well today on the first day of the season as they will right up until autumn starts on September 22nd.

Have a blast this summer, sweet friends, no matter what you cook, where you go, or how you spend your gorgeous sunshine filled months!

The kind of outfit I usually wear to go thrift store shopping

...or anywhere in which trying on a fair amount of clothing is highly likely to occur.

Outfit details

All hair flowers: Arden

Vintage Aurora Borealis glass bead necklace: from etsy seller Little Women Vintage

Sky blue sweater: Cleo (this sweater is a bit big in the torso for me, so I usually fold it in the back and hold
its revised shape in place with a belt)

Royal blue faux leather belt: unknown

Light blue 1950s gloves: etsy or eBay

Vintage black velour pencil skirt: etsy seller Lady Kitschener's Vintage Emporium

Nude seemed stockings: eBay

Black pumps: Payless

Lip colour: MAC Russian Red

Photography by Antonio Cangiano

♥ ♥ ♥

Spring was fairly late in arriving to our little neck of the British Columbia woods this year, but once it did finally grace us with its presence, countless blossoms and blooms began springing up around the neighbourhood. From luscious lilacs to charming tulips, pussy willow to whatever (I'm by no means an arboriculture expert) the gorgeous fuchsia hued blossoms were that grew on this tree that's located on the perimetre of our condo's front yard (does anyone know what type of tree this is?).

Knowing how short lived most start-of-the-season flowers are, I wanted to ensure we snapped some pics out in front of this tree before it's vibrant dark pink blossoms disappeared (this being the first year we've been at this house, we didn't know that tree was going to blossom and were thrilled when it did), so we did just that recently before I headed out on a day of second hand clothing shopping with my sweet mom.

While I utterly adore such days, they are quite tricky for me because I really need my health to be in a certain spot before I can even entertain the idea of doing something (which is for me) so physically demanding. Every now and then the universe cut me a break though and I do happen to have a day (or at least part of one) where I'm able to go out and spend a few hours trying on clothes at my town's various second hand and consignment shops.

Whether I'm going to such stores or am shopping for garments elsewhere (such as the mall or a big box retailer), I've learned over the years that you'll save a fair amount of time and continue to look fairly un-rumpled throughout the day if you stick with relatively simple garments that are easy to get on and off - and which don't stand to do too much damage to your hair (as you whip them over your head time and time again).

More often than not my thrift shopping day outfits consist of a simple neutral hued a-line or pencil skirt (worn with or without hosiery, depending on the season - in these shots I had nude seemed stockings on), a comfortable thin to medium weight sweater or cardigan, a camisole or full slip, and a sensible pair of shoes.

I generally forgo my usual bangle bracelets in favour of closer fitting stretch or clasp ones and/or vintage gloves (as I don't want to risk losing a bracelet in the process of trying clothes on), and keep the rest of my accessories fairly streamlined and close fitting, too (think stud earrings, princess length necklaces, and only those brooches in my collection with the sturdiest of fasteners).

When it comes to my hair I like to keep things somewhat low key, too, as a fancy or fussy updo can all too quickly get mangled as you're taking clothing on and off over your head. Sometimes I'll wear my hair curled and piled on my head in such a way as to channel Betty Grable, other times I'll use a headscarf paired with faux Bettie bangs, and quite often I'll stick with loose waves (care of my hot rollers) and a roll or two. Hair flowers on clips are pretty resilient usually, so one or more (or four in this case!) can be a terrific way to inject a bit more interest into an otherwise fairly plain vintage inspired look.

If you're not in the mood for a skirt and sweater however, another look I've sometimes donned for days like this is a basic vintage (or vintage appropriate) shirtwaist dress (again with a cami or full slip underneath so that you have that there ready and waiting for the you as you try on clothing). The buttons here can slow you down a bit though, but over all it's still a pretty quick garment to hop in and out of. High waisted trousers or jeans, too, assuming they're quick to slip on and off, can also be a good option for a day or fast paced thrift store shopping.

While we didn't unearth any actual vintage items (not rare at all, last time's awesome discovery of two 1950s hats is a rarity these days around these parts), I did pick up a few lovely vintage appropriate cardis, sweaters and tops, plus a stellar pair of shoes in a classic 1940s style that I've been hoping to find for ages now.

As such  the day was definitely not a bust at all. My health held up while we were shopping, and most importantly, I got to get out for a while and spend a terrific afternoon with my mom, which is always the very best element of our days spent thrifting together.