It’s still high summer, so time to let the blue hydrangea take a bow.

I gathered the somewhat electric blue optic stemware to share the stage. Included are the large water, the smaller wine and the tall, thin cordial goblets. Might as well let them all enjoy an outing.

Modern Hartley Greens shell edge soup bowls sit atop vintage Jewel creamware dinner plates by Spode.

Also enjoying an airing is the embroidered tablecloth and napkins I picked up from Elise Abrams Antiques many years ago.  I was tickled by the combination of blue and green in the embroidery.

They came home at the same time as the optic blue glasses.

The linens are actually linen, so crumple quite easily, no matter how carefully one plies the iron. In the old days, one might have had “people” to help wrestle the thing to the table without incident, but it was just us chickens on the day I set this table, so a couple of wrinkles ensued. 

I had Tigger to help out, but as you can see, he was lying down on the job.

Oh! Sorry, Mum. Did you need my help?  More on Tigger in a minute, I’m afraid.

The clear blues popped against the creamy white background of the tablecloth.

The napkins have a crenellated edge, just like a castle wall, and coordinate well with the blue edging on the soup bowls. The soup bowls are from Hartley Greens in Leeds, Yorkshire, UK. They’ve been discontinued, unfortunately, but you can sometimes find stock kicking around on eBay or on one of the tourist sites. It’s also called “Leedsware”. making reference to the city from which it hails.

The corners of the tablecloth have big, puffy renditions of the topiary trees.

A pair of birds from Pier 1 this year snuggles in a little wire nest.

A sunny summer table in clear blues and greens.


Now for some sad news about Tigger. I’ve been delaying and delaying sharing it, as it makes it all too real. After eighteen years of faithful assistance, Tigger has passed on, and I miss him more than I can say. His lounge lizard tendencies were always at the forefront. We used to joke that he channelled Frank Sinatra; we could just see him in an iridescent suit, cigarette in paw, oozing over a piano in a dive bar.

His unending mooching; never did we have a meal without Tigger looming. 

From the minute he arrived as a kitten, he was incredibly special. He would snuggle up for a nap, always confident of his welcome.

And I will always remember him thusly, peeking around the corner of our dining room in the Cape “Are you bringing some new food soon?

Thanks for everything, Tigger. You are very, very much missed.  Much loved, you will always live on in our hearts. 

I’m sharing this post with Between Naps on the Porch.

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