Dispassion

Vondelpark, the green heart of Amsterdam, has always a story to tell and today, a glorious winter day, it allowed me to discover this elegant hydrangea, covered in snow but serene and graceful as if it were still in bloom. I admired its shape and perfect snow hat and marveled at the delicate nuances Mother Nature gives its petals in every phase of its life. Later I promised myself that I would look up for its meaning since I know that each flower has a specific connotation, according to Victorian floriography. The language of flowers was at that time a means of communication in which various flowers and floral arrangements were used to send coded messages, allowing individuals to express feelings which otherwise could not be spoken. Few months ago I was introduced to this specific code while reading a novel written by Vanessa Diffenbaugh, The language of flowers. Her first novel. Usually I read essays and leave novels aside but this book was a cherished present and I read it in one go. Great.
Well, to my great disappointment hydrangea stands for dispassion, i.e. the state or quality of being unemotional or emotionally uninvolved but if you look at my picture you might actually accept this explanation in a positive way. The hydrangea dispassion and detachment is exactly what makes it beautiful and divine.
Victoria, Vanessa Diffenbaugh main character, finds out soon enough that the same flower can have quite different meanings and this reminds us of the arbitrary use of definitions. A hydrangea is a hydrangea is a hydrangea.

Simonetta Ronconi

The Flax

My gift for the New Year, and precisely for the Winter Solstice which took place on the 22nd of December 2011, is a fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen: The Flax.
It is an amazing story with a profound meaning that will certainly inspire you.
My first magic encounter with the flax took place some years ago among the hills of Chantilly, France, of all places. I had never seen flax fields before in my life and all of sudden, while riding in a car on a hill top, my sight was inundated by a sea of fragile and delicate blue flowers stretching on several hills. An amazing emotion!
One day, not so long ago, I was looking for an image for or information on “il lino” the flax and I stumbled upon a lovely website with the story of the famous Danish author.

Enjoy your reading and Happy New Year!

Simonetta Ronconi

And if you feel like listening to the Italian version of this story, just click on the links below

Il lino – HC Andersen – narrated by Simonetta Ronconi Part 1

Il lino – HC Andersen – narrated by Simonetta Ronconi Part 2

Pearls

Pearl strings and webs, I thought such things existed only in fairy tales books but last week I was glad to have my first close encounter with some of them. I was strolling in an old fortified city in The Netherlands, Heusden and for the first time in years the country was covered in the thickest fog I have ever seen. Saturday morning is usually quiet there but it was even quieter then. The old city was silent and it seemed almost empty. Those tiny water drops, nicely assembled on the spider webs, were trembling in the gentle wind; I feared they would fall apart any moment. It was difficult to part from them. I knew it is something you do seldom witness if you live a city. Their impermanence made them perfect, a gift for the lucky passersby. The coat of arms of Heusden is a wheel or a spinning wheel. I just adore to discover these “thin connecting threads” when I visit new places and weave my web of associations and meaningful surprises.

Simonetta Ronconi

Heavenly blue

There is something mysterious about this stunning flower, the Ipomoea. Its twisting habit, its daily dance with the sun and the moon, has always captured my attention, wherever I happen to find it. It is so tender and yet so determined in its stern ritual, that Carl Linnaeus, the XVIII century botanist, included it in his Horologium Florae, the flower clock.
On a splendid island in the middle of the Adriatic sea I was offered a magnificent view. While walking in a tiny alley in the scorching sun of the early afternoon, just behind an unsuspected corner, I saw a huge and lush blanket of heavenly blue ipomoeas covering an abandoned backyard and cascading on the neighbors’ fence and gate. I was transfixed by their richness and I could not understand how such delicate flowers could stand that temperature and parade their beauty with such a superior attitude. The following days I would pass by just to marvel at its twisting in the evening and early in the morning.
What a lovely memory.

Simonetta Ronconi

Canaille

Has anybody ever published a study on the influence of a specific language on the mind of a menu reader and on his or her taste buds? Probably the language influence is quite marginal, what counts is the meaning of the names of the various menu items, their descriptions and the images and associations it may create in the reader’s mind. Call me old fashioned but I am still fascinated by the French language when it comes to menus, not to mention desserts.
A couple of months ago I visited the charming city of Montpellier for the first time. It was a glorious sunny day and I could wear my sandals again. What a joy to feel the warmth of late springtime and play hide and seek in the shadows of the numerous little alleys and squares of that old and erudite city. It was time to sit somewhere and enjoy some fresh air to cool down and relax. The choices I had were many but I found myself all of a sudden in a blessed place: Place du Petit Scel, just in front of the elegant Church of Saint Anne, with a distant view of the plain and a divine breeze blowing upwards. The little square had a couple of great trees and lots of simple tables with big and white sun umbrellas. It was not pretentious and you could easily notice that many visitors found their way to those tables. I had no expectations but I could feel that it was not a mere touristic café. When the waiter brought me a menu, I slowly opened it and was instantly hit by a word: Valrhôna. – You might know that Valrhôna Cocoa is basically the Rolls Royce of the chocolate industry – I immediately upgraded Chez Canaille (great name) to the best ice cream salon in Montpellier. What happened afterwards had a lot to do with the French language, though. I was toast already but the enchantment of the ice cream names and their description took me in a different dimension. Please, try to read some of them in the context I have just painted and let me know if I am exaggerating when I say that it is pure poetry…

GLACES ET SORBETS
Maître Artisan Glacier

CARAMEL BEURRE SALE
au caramel, au beurre et au sel de Guérande
POMME CANNELLE
à la cannelle infusée avec des morceaux de pomme caramélisées
PISTACHE
à la pâte de pistache de Sicile avec éclats de pistache
THE VERTE A LA MENTHE
thé infusé et menthe douce
CHOCOLAT NOIR
au chocolat et au cacao Valrhôna
PAIN D’EPICES
au véritable pain d’épice d’Alsace
VANILLE
à la Vanille Bourbon et au beurre d’Echiré et aux oeufs
FAISSELLE AU PERLEE DE FRAMBOISE
glace à la véritable faisselle avec ajout de perlée et coulis de framboises

Enjoy!

Simonetta Ronconi