Hazel Stellamaris

Hazel

The hazel is a deciduous tree common in the Northern hemisphere and especially important in the British Isles.

Trees hold nearly universal significance across cultures, symbolizing life, redemption, kinship and tradition, wisdom, sustenance, shelter.

In the Christian tradition we find the Tree of Life, the Tree of Jesse, the Rood--all images intertwined, enriching each-other, all speaking of life in Christ and in the Church, life blossoming, producing fruit, Life in abundance.

In medieval European consciousness the hazel tree was associated with water: frequently found planted around holy wells and places of spiritual significance.

“And she shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth her fruit in season; her leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever she doeth shall prosper.” Psalm 1:3

Medieval pilgrims, especially in the British Isles, carried staffs made of hazel wood. These staffs symbolized the life of grace, pilgrimage, and were often buried with their owners.

St. Patrick, it is said, expelled the snakes from Ireland using a rod of hazel.

An old pious legend claims that it was a hazel tree that sheltered the Holy Family on their flight to Egypt.

Stellamaris

Stella Maris, “Star of the Sea,” is an ancient title of the Virgin Mary.

Love […] is an ever fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wand’ring bark,

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.

                                                                 Shakespeare, Sonnet 116

Stella Maris, the “sea-star” is another name of the star Polaris, also called the “lodestar” or “steering star” because, since ancient times, mariners have used it for navigation at sea.

In Christian tradition Mary becomes the “lodestar” of the Church: the light that guides us to our ultimate destination, the “true North”: Christ.

In the 12^th century St. Bernard of Clairvaux wrote: “If you are driven upon the rocks of tribulation look to the star, call on Mary.”

To My Hugo

You turned two on January 23. How did the days pass so quickly between then and now?

How did the years pass so quickly? A moment ago you were a baby, now--you are a boy.

Happy Belated Birthday, my golden child.

When I found out that I was pregnant with you I could not fathom how I could love you as much as I loved your sister. I didn't say anything, afraid to admit my fear.

From the moment I first felt you stirring in my womb I knew you were a different kind of child. Gentler, more deliberate than your fierce and tumultuous older sister. When you were born I waited for that wrenching newborn scream--but it didn't come. You smiled and went to sleep. You have been smiling ever since: delighting in the world you find.
                                          

Your sister is like me, fortunately or unfortunately. You are nothing like me. You are like your father. Fortunately. Only fortunately. When my grandmother saw you for the first time, she said (in her arch, Georgian way), "Well. We know where You came from." I love you for your father, for the happy spirit you inherited from him. I love you for your self.

I am so happy that you came. I am overwhelmed with pride at how you have grown, and troubled with grief that you are growing up.


*** The fantastic photos at the beginning of this post were taken by Chelsea Donoho, who is an incredibly talented artist based in Lawrence, Kansas. Check out her site HERE. 

Deep Clean: Hattie's Room

My "Fall Cleaning," which I so ambitiously began...in the fall...became, as days (and weeks and months) passed, the "Advent" deep clean, and now has become the "New Years" deep clean. If I don't post quickly it will soon become Spring Cleaning true and proper. In my defense, despite the lack of blog documentation, I did energetically pursue my deep cleaning throughout the Fall. And then Advent struck and Christmas and there was no time to blog. I love the Christmas season and its joyous traditions, religious wonder, family celebrations, friendly meetings, food. But I must admit that I am glad its all over.

Deep cleaning is a funny thing. In that it doesn't stick/stay. Already I am finding that the kitchen which received the treatment only a month ago, is almost in need of another scouring. Alas. And today we removed the Christmas tree, which scattered a million tiny pieces of itself in every room and (somehow) under every rug to ensure we will remember it fondly till...next Christmas.

Today's Deep Clean feature is Hattie's Room. The photos are already obsolete, having little to do with the post-Christmas reality of one thousand tiny plastic princesses and their furniture and accessories. Not to mention Hattie's expanded winter wardrobe courtesy of the Grandmothers. But the feeling and vision of the room remain: simple, whimsical, bright. Hattie's room with it's books, its comfortable chair, its southern exposure, remains one of my favorite rooms in the house. It was here that I nursed my first baby for whole days at a time while reading thousands of pages of Charles Dickens novels I somehow missed in nineteen years of formal education. It was here I paced back and forth with said baby in the middle of the night, staring out at the bright winter sky. It's a good place, always evolving and changing as my daughter grows.

Excuse the poor quality of these photos. I made a mistake somewhere in the editing process. And now both of my children are awake. So. Too late for extra edits.

Sources:
Wallpaper: Sanderson's "Finches"
Bed: antique. This was my mother's bed and mine as well. It shows its age but I love it.
Storage furniture: vintage
Glider: Pottery Barn
3 Bird Pictures: These pictures are by an Edinburgh artist. We bought three little images just before I found out I was pregnant with Hattie.