Harvest time


Waiting for some quinces to heat. They drop to the ground outside my window: THUMP. It seems no time since they and my poppies were in full bloom.

And this year I've been using Elizabeth David's recipes from her French Provincial Cooking, a book I love to read before going to sleep. Marmelade de coings (quince marmalade—the word 'marmalade' reached French and English via the Portuguese name for quince, 'marmelo', according to Elizabeth D) and Pate de Coings, quince paste. Lots and lots of it and I've run out of people to give it to.

The other thing I've been doing in the evenings is watching Charlie Rose. I think his interviews are magic, with film writers and directors as well as lots of others. My favorite so far is the episode with three Mexican filmmakers, including Guillermo del Toro, who's here in Wellywood working on The Hobbit right now. Their love and support for each other just shone and provided a great model for generosity among artists.

I thought of this interview when I read a Women & Hollywood post from a young woman in the industry (her story is so familiar to me from my own research, could fit right into my thesis script, Development). Do women filmmakers love and support one another in the same way? I have my wonderful mates from my classes at the Institute of Modern Letters but we haven't yet supported one another right through a film project. Well, in another W&H post, here's news of a support group of US women screenwriters: the Fempire.  Made me smile. Gave me ideas.

Comments

  1. Am loving your blog Marian, thanks for sending me the link. Loved the Top Twins trailer - wished I was in Wgtn to see it. Chances of it coming to Aust??? But what really got me was your pic of opium poppies under the heading 'harvest time' - got that old junkie heart pumping! And no, they are not quite ready for harvest yet, but getting there. Some dark secrets Marian?

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  2. Ah, Magdalena, I am laughing! I love my poppies, SO gorgeous. They self-sow (including a beautiful double pink one I brought home from a family grave at a soldiers' cemetery in Bath). And every year people nick them, taking great care not to stomp on other plants. Just past this stage, as you can imagine. So this year I was in my little photographing phase and thought "They'll be gone soon, I'll take some photos." So I took some photos. And then the poppies were gone.

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  3. PS & of course I have dark secrets. Discovered a few new ones when I went to student counselling last year about my thesis. And found another one on Friday when rehearsing a "Development" reading with someone who wanted me to direct her as well as read with her. When I got through my shyness about 'directing' I loved it. & then it was wonderful — what I'd written took on a life of its own.

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