It's been a while.....a long while....since I could entertain easily. We've been living in our wonderful/horrible old summer house through way more winters than I ever thought we would. Someone asked me recently how long we had lived here full-time and I hemmed around (bad at remembering timelines) and came up with 2006. A little research revealed that we sold our Seattle-area house and moved in here October 1, 2004. Gulp. Seven years ago. For all this time, I haven't had a table that could seat more than four, or a living room that could be heated to anything above 55 degrees between Thanksgiving and Easter. The dishes I've collected have been stored, along with the vases, ribbons, napkins and candles that I draw from when I set a table. Now, at last, the storage unit is emptied and the new house is habitable. The pretty chairs are again arranged around a table that can seat eight. It's not exactly as though we haven't entertained in the intervening years, but it hasn't been like it used to be. We begin again.
Okay. Eight people coming for dinner in the first week of October. An autumn table is an obvious choice, and I'm not too proud to be obvious. Centerpieces are the hardest, so I start to look around for possibilities. Leaves haven't turned here in Western Washington, but the rose hips are plump and vivid (also mean). Checking out the grocery stores for flowers, fruit or other possibilities is discouraging. This week the goods are both tired-looking and expensive. There are some really cool wooden apples in a nearby shop, but they cost $4.50 each. The new crop of real apples hasn't made it to the grocery store and I don't want to wait for the farmers market on the day of the dinner. The chrysanthemums outside Safeway are the cheapest seasonal flowers. The little pumpkins are cute, but I don't have a good vision for how to use them with my stuff. As usual, even when I start early I can't see too far down the road. I buy the mums and leave the pumpkins and the wooden apples.
At home, I review the tablecloth choices. I have a couple that might be okay, but the chestnut dyed pique will be the easiest. Easy is good. I get out all the dishes that I think might work, Usually I like the low contrast, low key plates, but this time Mike's mother's old apple pattern Franciscan plates have the most life. Do I have eight of those? Yes! and only one is chipped. (My mother also had the same dish pattern, but not too many survived...Franciscan chips easily.) So apple plates with brick red napkins. I regret not buying apples for the centerpiece. I also find six rusty metal oakleaf napkin rings that I bought for $1.50 at a garage sale and have never used. When I try to fit the napkins into one I realize why. Too small. After cramming a napkin into one, I cut my finger trying to get it out. I will have to integrate band-aids into the table setting if I use them that way. However, I find that tying ribbon around the napkin and propping the oak leaves over them looks okay, and the oak leaves make a nice repeat of the dark wood of the table.
Evaluating glassware is quick, because I don't have so many choices. Again I turn to pieces I inherited from my dear mother-in-law. She chose a common Fostoria pattern when she married and amassed quite a collection over the years. I probably wouldn't have chosen the pattern myself, but now I wouldn't trade it for anything. I always think of her when I use them, and they are so handy in every situation. Silverware also is easy, Mike's grandmother's sterling has pearl-handled knives that look pretty and add life to the table. I feel so lucky to have received such lovely table things from my husband's family. My family didn't have the same resources, and used what it had much harder.
The tablecloth and napkins have been pressed and the plates are set. I'm back to the centerpiece, which never comes easily, no matter how much I've thought about it. I bought the lavender mums because I figured purple would be a good complement to autumn colors, but now I have brown and red with off white, and no purple in sight. I think the centerpiece should be dark because of the oak leaves, and for contrast, but I don't have anything in wood or ceramic that works. Just looking for dark things, I get out three shallow carnival glass goblets that Mike bought for his mom years ago. I feel pretty doubtful until I put the rose hips into one and they just pop. Of course, I don't have enough hips for all three goblets, I don't really have enough for one. Also, that shallow coupe shape is just murder to arrange things in. Lacking a good alternative as time gets short, I keep fooling with it and realize that the stems of the rose hips make a good armature for holding the a few of the lavender mums. The whole thing is too small for the table, but the colors, oddly, look just fine with the dishes. I put a lace doily under the goblet to beef up its presence, and add a couple of dark purple votive holders to either side. It's done, because it has to be, and now the camera battery gives up the ghost.
I go on to greet my guests, finish the dinner, drink champagne, light the candles, and gather everyone around my table, as I love to do. In the low light of evening, the table looks warm and welcoming, the centerpiece looks rich instead of paltry, and my friends are in a fine flow of jokes and conversation. The food is good, the company is great; it's a wonderful occasion and I am so happy.