New arrivals…

The arrival in our household of new objets d’art and pieces of antique furniture are to Francesco & me like the birth of a baby – or less prosaically, maybe like adopting a new kitty. We’ve added two sets of chairs and a few other bits and bobs lately, but the real joy is finding a good clock, for as any clock lover knows time pieces seem always endowed with living souls, evidenced by the reassuring sound and rhythm of their constant beating.

We sold our beloved French ‘comtoise’ clock as part of the sale of furniture of our Todi palazzo and have sorely missed Notre Dame des Horloges, as we called her in reference to a lovely filigree brass face that depicted a peasant boy presenting a simple nest of eggs to the Virgin Mary.

‘Comtoise’ is a style name that refers to clocks from the region of Franche-Comté where they have been made for several hundred years. They are distinguished by a ‘potbellied’ midsection that houses the pendulum, and by the particularly feminine shape of their wooden cases. Because we’ve missed ours so much, we’ve been on the lookout for a new one - even though we certainly have enough old clocks ticking and chiming around the place.

Thanks to the generosity of my brother & sister, I inherited my mother’s beautiful English tall case clock, which is now here with me in France. We also have a Connecticut-made Ansonia mantel clock – a gift to Francesco from his father – plus another 19^th century American mantel piece - my grandmother’s - and a Swiss alarm clock in a wooden case that I bought in Italy. I calibrate and wind each of them every morning and they add a bit of cacophony to the house, by tick-tocking and chiming according to their own particular and idiosyncratic schedule – alas, never quite in sync.

We finally found our new horloge comtoise yesterday at an antique fair in Sarlat, a fine 1850s vintage piece with a painted pine cabinet, a beautiful white enamel dial adorned with small flowers, and a stamped brass couronnement depicting an avenging and winged Saint Joan protecting the French countryside with sword in hand. We rushed home to polish the brass bits, wax the case, and install the clock in the kitchen corner to test its functionality.

Despite redoubtable age and obvious abandonment for some time, the old girl works like a charm. And - to me at least - the messages whispering in her soft ticking are: that it’s nice to be useful once more, loved yet again, and ensconced in a happy home.