The Stumpery and a Simple Life

The Stumpery in Owl Wood is sporting some very fine mushrooms thanks to all the mild wet weather.    I haven't a clue about what they are called, I simply admire their form and beauty.

Even the spring bulbs and early greenery are beginning to sprout, the rhubarb patch in the back garden is active again... I fear they may all get a bit of a shock when the weather becomes properly seasonal.

The sky is blue, the sun is shining and I am being called outside by the beauty of it all.   I'd like to be out there right now, trouble is,  I am baking bread - but as soon as the loaves are out on the cooling rack, I shall pull on my coat and boots and get out and about for a walk through my favourite stomping grounds...Butterbump Splash, Dovecote Dell and back to Little Bunting.

I'm pleased with how they turned out.

So, the bread is baked and on the racks cooling.  Freedom and fresh air beckon.

As I make my way around drinking in the wonderfully clean, cold air, I shall be thinking about 2015, pondering which bits to share.

It has been a year which has seen our dear old friends, Oscar, and Trent, become very ill indeed. Hang on in there, old chums,  everyone sends love and healing thoughts to you.

The Dovecot and our local pub - the white building on the left side of the photograph.

One of my favourite extra jobs this year has been looking after my dear old friend, Benedict.   I love that old horse and I miss him.   Every time I walk around Owl Wood  (several times a day) I find myself lifting my head to look for him for he always seemed to hear me in there and would look across - probably trying to say "come and see me, and don't forget the pony nuts, apple, carrots and polo mints...".    

I took a few moments to walk around the churchyard, scrambling up the steep bank and through the wrought iron gate by the yew trees to the east and as I did so, I found part of a very large bone.   It was obviously very old, perhaps the rabbits which have honeycombed the hillside had dislodged it and brought it to the surface.   I expect there is a proper procedure, but in lieu of this I gouged out a hole and gave it a decent burial.

As I was fighting my way through what is probably the muddiest farmyard in the whole of Lincolnshire, I felt I was being watched.   I turned my head to the right and saw these three handsome chaps.    

They stood stock still and watched as I struggled to free my Wellington boot from the deep, deep,  mud which was determined to hang on to it.   I won the fight - but only just.

This is the view looking back towards Dovecote Dell - the farmyard, the dovecot, church and cottages are hidden by the trees on the right.

One step from here and I am back on the lane which runs through Little Bunting.  

The cold air cleansed and refreshed me and I now know that I only want to wish everyone  "A Very Happy New Year!"

It has been fun developing this new blog and meeting some new friends, along with a few from days of yore.   Your company is much appreciated.

Max and I will be spending the early part of this evening with our new neighbours, getting to know them a little better as we share a bottle or two of something cold and fizzy.   They will then move on to the pub, to join in with the midnight celebrations and fireworks, Max and I will head home for a mug of cocoa and to check on Dobson and the cats.   They hate fireworks, but not half as much as Max hates being out late and socialising.
xxx

Wednesday at Parsonage Cottage, for Poppy & Miles

Yesterday afternoon we waved farewell to Ben and his parents.   

It was wonderful having them to stay with us, even for such a short visit.

Ben is a little treasure, so like James as a child - apart from the dimples which

I think he gets from his mum.

This morning we called in to check on your house and it was fine, all was as it should be.

We also popped in to the shops to buy cat food, those girls eat us out of house and home.

Back home and the old fruit garden lawn got mowed - the weather has been so mild that it hasn't really stopped growing.

Housework has been done, bedding changed, Hector and Merry have been over for an hour

and Dobson has been walked.

All is well in our little kingdom.

We'll give you a call tomorrow.

Meanwhile, as promised, a few photographs of your nephews and niece.

The two boys got on really well, Hector was thrilled when little Ben decided that he really liked his big cousin...

..Merry had trouble adjusting to having her big brother 'borrowed' and having to share her beloved 'Gwampa' with another.   She settled for staying close to her daddy.

Ben and his daddy - Ben is playing with an old calculator, we told him it was a telephone, he had some wonderful conversations with it... although he was a little puzzled at first about why it didn't talk back to him.
lots of love,
Mum
xxx

Life and Death in a Barley Field

Parsonage Cottage is almost surrounded by a large barley field.  At the moment it is green and lush, like a beautiful lawn which softly undulates with the first/last ripples of the Lincolnshire Wolds.   You could be forgiven for thinking it very dull.

During December I have been witness to two murders and have seen another body carried off in triumph...Midsommer has nothing on this killing field.

Walk quietly, keep your eyes on full alert and you may be lucky and see the tiny muntjack deer.   You could certainly see plenty of tiny hoof marks on the heavy clay soil because muntjack deer cut through the field on their way to somewhere else - perhaps they go to the trout farm or the watermill for a drink.   I have come close to two of them recently.

A few days later I was walking Dobson along the side of the old railway track and saw a stoat.    It was cutting across the field at right angles to the railway line, completely oblivious to everything around.   When it did catch sight of me (Dobson was away in the distance following some exciting scent or other) it sat, looked at me and then ran for cover.   It was one of those magical moments when,  just for a heartbeat,  you have eye contact with a wild creature.

Albert, the lonely seagull, made the field his home for several weeks after harvest.   He was one lone and lonely seagull.   I worried about him.   Luckily, he was later joined by two others and they have all since disappeared.

Sometimes the big grey herons spent a few hours in the field.   I have seen as many as seven at any one time, but I happen to know that they are only part of the larger group of herons which live just over the railway line, they number seventeen.

I spend a lot of time counting them as I walk Dobson.  They don't make it easy.   I have given up on trying to photograph them, they don't let me get that close.

Of course we have the usual quota of rabbits and pheasants plus the occasional fox or badger.  

At night we hear lots of calls from the tawny owls, but rarely see them, although  I do sometimes see a big and beautiful Barn Owl flying around the perimeter of the field.   On one occasion I had the spine-tingling delight of the owl turning his head to look at me.

However, we also get to see the reality of wild animals.     Just this month I have witnessed an enormous buzzard grab a rabbit and then proceed to eat it while two equally large buzzards waited patiently just a few yards away.    It was a remarkable sight.

Then there was the case of the screaming rabbit being hotly pursued by a stoat.  The stoat won and proceeded to eat his meal, magpies later flew down to finish what was left.

The third incident involved a dog walker, a terrier dog, and a pheasant.    Let's just say that one got carried out of the field by the walker and it wasn't the dog.

The field has plenty of rats, moles, mice and toads, depending on the time of year and how well you keep your eyes open.       So, a big open expanse of farmland is never as quiet, or as empty, as you may think.



*      *      *

Poppy and Miles, a photograph of the three cousins enjoying a bit of fun today.xxx

Preparing for the next Round

Today has been spent doing normal things, a small oasis of calm before our next lovely guests arrive.

Dobson was having an off day and refused to walk along the lane with me.   I tried persuading him, but he dug he heels in.   I wasn't prepared to drag him along on a walk, so I took him back to the garden and went off by myself.

Through Butterbump Splash and along the lane to Dovecote Dell.

I took a small detour to the church yard, then down through the farmyard - a very muddy farmyard, just as well I was wearing Wellies.   The air was mild, the sun was shining.   It was wonderful.

Back home, I baked a sponge cake and a load of chocolate brownies, then used the sponge to make an enormous trifle.   Beth and James are staying with us for a few days, so they will make short work of it.   I also made a vast potato salad and a big pot curry.    I plan to do relaxed entertaining and easy meals.

Max has been busy in the garden - shredding the mini mountain of sticks which have blown down through the year.      They were soon shredded and scattered along the pathways around the vegetable garden, forming a nice dry surface.    

We always enjoy this job - it tidies up the woodland and it provides us with free mulch.  Win-win...and fresh air, to boot.

Poppy, Miles, I'll post photographs and more news tomorrow.    The internet has been dropping in and out today, sorely trying my patience.

XXX

Hello to my Shanghai Two xxx

Dear Poppy and Miles,

As promised, some photographs of our Christmas breakfast.    Two whirling dervish children came across the garden at 8.30am, their parents were just moments behind them.   They, and The Writer, joined us for gift opening and breakfast.   It was chaotic and fun.  Everyone got fed and everyone seemed happy with their gifts.

We had a simple, kitchen breakfast, but everyone got something they enjoyed.  Eggs in pots for Alice, while Hector and Richard opted for bacon rolls, one on granary, the other white, sauteed mushrooms and garlic on bruschetta for The Writer, while Merry opted for cereal.    Everything was washed down with orange juice, Prosecco, Bucks Fizz, or blackcurrant juice according to taste.  

Hector adored the Christmas crackers and took delight in reading out all the corny jokes, something he couldn't quite achieve last year.

The Writer took lots of photographs, so did Max.   I have hopes that most of The Writer's do not feature me because unfortunately, Max's do...sorry.

For a while everything was a blur of wrapping paper being whipped off and exclamations of delight or puzzlement.

Hector was thrilled with his Monopoly, Star Wars Edition.

While young Merry was thrilled with her dolls house furniture.  She played for a long time, ignoring everything else, lost in her own little world.

It has been a fun-filled morning.    Now everyone has gone home, the dishes have been done.  Order restored.  The rest of the day is our own.

Max and I plan to chill out, read our new books, walk the dog, have a little more Prosecco and relax.
We miss you both so much - but we'll do something fun in the summer!
Love to you,
Mum and Dad
xxx

One Night at the Pub, Two Dead Pheasants and Three Sticks of Brussels Sprouts

We spent a few very jolly hours down at the local pub last night.   It was so good to meet up with friends for a few hours of fun and merriment.    It can be difficult getting Max out of the house, especially on dark, wet and windy nights - but he had to agree that he'd really enjoyed the evening.

Dominic and Andy were in fine form and the jokes and laughter kept coming.     This rural backwater would be a very dull place without their input.

It was the Grand Christmas Draw - an annual event of enormous proportions which really draws in the crowds and keeps our landlord on his toes serving drinks as his wife and daughter organised the prize distribution.   Family run pubs mean a lot of hard work for the family!

It was a lovely evening, I'm glad we went.

I'm glad that I stuck to soda and lime because we are heading out early, to the local Farmers Market.    I also plan to drop off a few bags of books, shoes and clothes to the local charity shops.   My never-ending quest to reduce clutter and thin out the racks in the dressing room continues.

Earlier in the week our son-in-law was presented with two dead pheasants and three sticks of brussels sprouts.     The sprouts were eagerly accepted and shared, the pheasants were politely declined.  (Son-in-law was forced to eat a lot of pheasant as a boy.   It is interesting to see how he never insists that his children should eat things they really don't like, he was re-served the same meal again and again until he ate it.  He won't inflict that on Hector and Merry.)

It reminded me of those days long ago, when I lived up in the Western Isles.   Occasionally we would get up in the morning to find a whole salmon on the doorstep.    The local poacher had had a successful night and was sharing his bounty.

What made it so funny was that my mother really didn't like fresh salmon, she much preferred tinned, so the fresh ones were always turned into fishcakes, hundreds of them because the salmon were always enormous!  

Carols & Mince Pies at Dovecote Dell

The weather deteriorated during the day, becoming wildly windy and very wet.   Luckily, as darkness fell, the evening became dry and still.      The air changed from unseasonable warmth, to very cool, so our spirits were high as we parked the car along the quiet country lane.

A very bright three-quarter moon shone in a dark blue velvet sky, myriad stars glittered and twinkled as we made our way through the darkness.   Suddenly the bells began to ring out, welcoming us into the warmth and light of the little church at Dovecote Dell and I just knew it was going to be a wonderful evening.

Plain white walls, mellow honey-coloured stone, the windowsills were adorned with the simplest decorations of fresh-cut holly and flickering candles.   Truly beautiful.

There were a couple of dozen people inside, the atmosphere was warm and relaxed as friends, old and new, greeted one another and began to catch up on all their news.

A hot water urn bubbled quietly in the corner, muttering a promise of hot drinks and mince pies later.

When the bells stopped ringing and everyone was seated, our lovely bouncy vicar began the service.   Imagine a slimmer version of the Vicar of Dibley, just a little more serious.     The short service was punctuated by carols sung with more enthusiasm than skill (I speak of myself  the others were brilliant).    

Perhaps the best treat of all was when the soloist sang.    Her voice was exquisite, trained but authentically beautiful.   She pitched it at exactly the right level for the building so that we were uplifted and transformed.

During the final hymn the urn joined in with a descant and it wasn't long before teas and coffees were being handed around, along with Diana's home-made mince pies, shortbread and chocolate cake and generous helpings of laughter and conversation.

Mrs Read* was there, looking as cheery as a winter robin redbreast in her beautiful scarlet coat, despite the fact that her hip was giving her a lot of trouble and she had resorted to using a walking stick.     She had thoroughly enjoyed the evening and is anticipating a lovely Christmas with her son doing all the cooking!

It was a lovely evening, a perfectly beautiful way to get into the Christmas spirit.       Tonight we'll be heading to the local pub, a chance to catch up with another group of friends and much merrymaking.

Somehow I don't think it will quite match up to the simple beauty of last night, but I'll let you know.

Bouncing on Gran's Bed

I woke up feeling very jolly and Christmassy, in the mood for festive baking.

First on the list was a watermelon and lime marmalade.   I found the recipe on Jenny Eatwell's blog and was intrigued by it.   I thought it would make an unusual Christmas gift.    Now I love the sharpness of lime, but this marmalade is definitely too sharp for most people.

I'll enjoy eating this first batch - the rich food of Christmas will be nicely balanced by this exceptionally zingy, mouth-puckeringly sharp concotion, but the recipe for my next batch will definitely be tweaked a little.   I'll let you know how it goes, if it is successful then I'll post my version.

I also made a batch of cranberry and almond biscotti.   I've never made biscotti before - so I was thrilled at just how easy they are to make and how many you get from one batch of the mix.  

My vintage F&M cake tins, filled with biscotti, will make nice gifts for friends.

I made a couple of cherry cakes but forgot to photograph them.   By then my urge to bake and cook had completely dissipated, we just had a simple lunch of yogurt and fruit with walnuts.   Totally delicious.

Merry and Hector, two of our grandchildren, came over this afternoon.   They wanted to watch a Christmassy film, in our bedroom, with the Christmas tree lights on and the open fire lit... but it was far too mild for that.   They were quite happy when we put some very large candles in the fireplace and lit them, the candlelight twinkled nicely and gave them a similar effect.

At first the two children were very happy to sit on the sofa with a faux fur throw over their laps, but they soon decided there was more fun to be had elsewhere.

So much more fun to get into Gran and Grandpa's big bed to watch television!     Even more fun to bounce around.

Hector has decided that when he grows up he is going to have a bedroom just like ours.

Poppy, the dark pillow case is one of the silk ones which you gave to us - Merry absolutely loved the way they felt on her face.   She definitely likes luxury, just like her Gran.    

Poppy and Miles - you are missed!

Speak to you both in the week.

Love, Mum

xxx

Neighbours, New and Old

Little Bunting is a quiet place with just a few dozen houses, a tavern, two fishing ponds, a trout farm and a village hall.    We used to have a  church, a village school, a post office, grocery shop, drapery shop, cobbler, coffin maker,  blacksmith, butcher, coal merchant and doctor's surgery ... not bad for such a tiny village.

The most recent one to close was the blacksmith's.   It was a sad day when everything was put up for auction, another link to the past lost.  People came from far and wide.

The church was dismantled in the mid 1600's, the stone was used in a neighbouring village.   The man who arranged all of this ultimately lost his head at the Tower of London.   I don't think the two events are linked.

There are plenty of really nice people and a decent local social life, if one wishes to jump on the merry-go-round (I don't, however I do attend some lovely gatherings occasionally) but this tiny village also seems to attract some, strange characters.

There was one man, since passed away, who had developed quite a despicable business in selling wild birds.    Part of his gathering process involved special glue and trees, the trees which we now call Owl Wood.  Perhaps even more surprising was the list of people who bought them from him, including one extremely well known film actor.

Another caused a national newspaper sensation when decidedly risque photographs were published...this person has since relocated to Europe.

Then there are the peculiar people, the ones who used to lurk and peer from behind hedges and walls and all manner of strange things which are best left unsaid.   They left last week, one day a removals van appeared, loaded up and off  they went to who knows where.

We now have some brand new neighbours.   We have high hopes.

They dropped by for a cup of tea yesterday and seem very happy, jolly people.   Fingers crossed!

*    *   *


Old Oscar remains in hospital.  We've visited him a few times, he remains an amazing man and still doesn't look anywhere near his 98 years.

I collect his mail and take it in to read to him.   He receives lots of Christmas cards from far and wide and it makes for a jolly half hour to sit there and read them to him.   Then he tells me a little about who has sent them, where they live and various reminiscences.

It would be lovely to see him back home, not sure that this is possible any time soon - but then the NHS is always ready to boot patients out asap.

I couldn't mention Oscar without talking about Benedict.   I have been told that he is enjoying his little holiday, I'd much rather hear it from the horse's mouth though.   He used to do a bit of 'Mr Ed' type mouthing, I never managed to capture an image, unfortunately.    I didn't actually hear words either, so don't worry.      Goodness, how I used to love that programme when I was a young girl.




p.s.  I am fully aware that their perception of me could be interesting, too!x

Christmas with a Rayburn

This is one of the ways in which we prepare for Christmas...it involves a lot of hard work and many dustsheets.    Oh joy!

This is the reality of living with a solid fuel Rayburn - the flue and inner workings of the beast must be cleaned out every so often.   Not many people tell you about that.   It is a hidden horror.

I adore my Rayburn, there is nothing so comforting on a cold wintery day, just ask the cats and Dobson, they fight for the prime position near the Rayburn and ignore the log burner.   We get the whole house heated, unlimited hot hot water, and it also a cooker.

This ritual of cleaning is the downside.    The pluses far outweigh the minuses but only once the job has been done and order restored.

Once the dustsheets have gone and the surfaces have all been cleaned down, etc. it is time to play around with the Christmas decorations.

Most of them are pretty ancient and are showing their age - like my beautiful kitchen angel/cherub.   The wing has crumpled a little over the years, but I am very fond of it.   The pointsettias, greenery  and pine cones are ancient, definitely past their use by date, but they remind me of Christmases past for they used to adorn the all staircases in a previous home, when my parents lived with us.  Treasured memories.

This wooden platter is filled with very old pomanders, they are at least 15 years old, shrunken and losing a few cloves, but they still scent the air.   I must make some new ones to add to the stash.

Gradually, the room begins to look festive.   I could throw all the old stuff out - but new and fancy things wouldn't make my heart sing.

So, this is how the kitchen at Parsonage Cottage gets trimmed for Christmas.  Everything is up high, out of the way of mischievous cats, although new girl Miss Pinkerton will probably jump up at some point.    Photographs can be so useful, I can see a painting which needs to be straightened, flypapers (countryside essential) which need to be taken down,  and I spy a dog who has sneaked up onto the sofa, taking advantage of my distraction.

The tree goes down the hallway to the main bedroom.   No animals are allowed into that wing of the house - doesn't stop them trying though, especially Miss Pinkerton!   Our grandchildren are enchanted with it and race down there to check out the tree although I think their main aim is to check for presents underneath the tree.

So, a tale of Christmas Past, Christmas Present and Christmases yet to come, as I hope the grandchildren will remember the fun they have at Parsonage Cottage, but more of that another time.
xxx

Waving Goodbye to Benedict

This beautiful old horse is about to go away on his holidays.
He was never mine, he belongs to Oscar.
Unfortunately Oscar isn't too well right now
and the family have decided that Benedict should be
sent on holiday for a while.

I'll miss him and my twice-daily visits to him,

the wonderful way he greets me, frisks my pockets

and head butts me in affection

as I tell him what a fine and handsome horse he is.   

He will miss the pony nuts, carrots, apple and polo mints.

I love you, Benedict.

Come back safe and sound in the Spring.

xxx
(Sobbing silently into my hanky
and preparing to put a brave face on for the grandchildren,
especially Merry, who loves him almost as much as I do.)

Over the Garden Gate

Poppy, Miles, sorry for the lack of posts.     Life is really busy at the moment and set to get even busier this week.  

This morning we spent several hours working down at your cottage, the builder will return tomorrow to move on to the next step.    It will all begin to come together soon!   This is the view over your garden gate, the parkland is devoid of cattle, but I saw three squirrels frolicking among the trees and a very handsome pheasant posing on the tree trunk.

Garden jobs are stacking up, they will have to wait though.   Extra childcare duties, caring for Old Oscar's horse, hospital visits and grandchildren's school plays, etc are all taking our time right now...and then there is Christmas and preparations for having people stay over the holidays, somewhere we have to fit in the regular chores, shopping, etc.      Poppy, we need you!

Max has removed that evil, spikey shrub from the cottage wall...

This green patch is where it was, the winter flowering jasmine is doing very well.    Once all those horrible pipes and wires are relocated it will look a whole lot better, although I still think you should have it painted pink,  of course Merry thinks purple would be better!

First thing each morning and just before dark I go along the road to visit this old boy.   We also visited old Oscar in hospital the other day.    I think it will be a while before he gets back home.

Oodles of love,

Mum
xxx

Recycled

When I was younger I used to give silk painting lessons, I also had exhibitions and sales of my work.  I still have a handful of scarves and a few of the 'reject' paintings.   It was enormous fun, but definitely involved a lot of hard work.

I rarely think about the paintings, except to occasionally wonder if any are still hanging on walls...much more likely that they have been thrown out or languish unloved, in attics!    

Imagine my surprise yesterday, when Max and I were out looking for a piece of furniture, of very particular dimensions (which gets very tedious when I see a beautiful item which Max deems to be not long/wide or high enough)  to fit in the conservatory, when I spotted two large silk paintings hanging on a second-hand furniture shop wall.

It dawned upon me that they were 'my' paintings from about 20 years ago.  

It was totally unexpected, something of a shock.    

I was consoled that at least it wasn't a charity shop...  ;-o

Paradise Lost for Mr Tremble

Mr Tremble's wild life came to an abrupt end one night; he was within a whisker of being permanently put out of action, when one of the 'girls' took pity and smuggled him into the safety of her home.

He kept his head down for a while, kept to the shadows.

Mr Tremble grew fat and bold when he found the well-stocked pantry.

One day the others found out about him.  

Plans were made to capture him, some wanted to set traps and kill him.  

One person pleaded that mercy should be shown, humane traps used.   Reluctantly, the other agreed.   Days passed and Mr Tremble remained free.

Snap-traps were purchased, once again there was a plea for mercy, just one more try with the humane trap....

Success!

Mr Tremble was caught in the pantry, taken out into the dark, wild wood and sent off to make his own way in the world.

This beautiful mouse was made by needlefeltedart.blogspot.co.uk

Don't bother coming back Mr Tremble, you won't be welcome.

The Master Bedroom at Parsonage Cottage

We don't normally burn candles in the hearth - I just wanted to show the effect of
dancing flames in the hearth.

Parsonage Cottage is the former stables, cow shed and cart shed for The Old Parsonage.   We had the opportunity to virtually do what we wanted with the interior, once we had finally got permission to update the place from the original 1970's conversion.

It was in poor condition, dead rats in the loft, damp... so we had it taken right back to just four walls, renewed the roof, then the work began.   We had to keep to the original window and door openings but other than that, it was down to us.      We opted to have a large master bedroom down at the north end of the house where the rooms get less light and warmth from the sun.   What was the former living room and dining room were incorporated to became one room.

This meant that we had the option of retaining the open fire - what a tough decision - of course we wanted to keep it.   What could be nicer on a cold winter's night than an open fire in the bedroom?   It's not the only heating, we also have two radiators.

It is a big room, deliberately so.   Lots of bookshelves, a sofa which originally belonged to us, we gave it to our daughter who eventually replaced it with something more modern and so it finally came back across the garden to us.  

My 'dressing-table' is a very old desk which was being thrown out by a GP friend, about 25 years ago,  it had belonged to his father.   Another nice bit of recycling.

An old armchair and large chest of drawers in another corner of the room.    It is all a mish-mash, old family stuff and recycled furniture.    The 'look' I was trying to achieve was something akin to a 'Gentleman's Club', a place of peace and quiet, a sanctuary.

It's not quite as gloomy as it looks in the photographs, someone has been messing about with my camera (Max) and I need to find up the handbook and re-set everything as all my photographs look rather dismal at the moment.   The room has a large by window and two regular ones, the ceiling is about ten foot high.

On a cold wintery evening we love to simply sit and watch the flickering flames as we sip our mugs of cocoa!   Who says romance is dead!

One piece of furniture which is about to have a new lease of life is this old cupboard, it houses all manner of things, including the printer, satellite box and so on.

We picked it up at an antiques centre for about £20.   It is functional, but dull.    I intend to paint it, I may even do some trompe l'oiel on it, the jury is out, I'm still thinking about it.   It will certainly be changing in the next few months.  

I am making a quilt for the bed from vintage Japanese kimono silk, the colours  are jewel-like and shine brightly in this slightly dark room.   Vintage, recycled, slowly evolving over time.