seen from Türkiye

seen from Ireland
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Russia
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from France
seen from Russia

seen from United Arab Emirates

seen from Poland
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from Taiwan

seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from Türkiye

seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from Russia
Have a great Christmas!
With Love,
A
Today at Pemberley, The 31st of December:
Pemberley was in a state of controlled chaos all morning. The staff rushed about, ensuring that every bit of dirt and ash was scrubbed from the house. Old rags worn threadbare over the year were thrown out. Even the furniture was polished until one’s reflection could be seen in the woodgrain.
Mrs. Gardiner found Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy supervising a wing of the operation. As the housemaids rushed about, Mrs. Darcy answered their questions and directed them to different tasks. The doors to the outside were thrown open so often it was freezing.
Mrs. Gardiner approached her niece. “I meant to ask you last year, Lizzie, but why on Earth do you hold to this cleaning superstition? Your mother and father never did.”
Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy confessed, “I do not. But it is the one superstition that Pemberley’s housekeeper holds close to her heart. The house must have all the bad luck scrubbed out before the new year comes.” Mrs. Darcy glanced around as if looking for the woman in question. “You cannot give even the slightest hint of my apathy toward the superstition. For she will feel that she must defer to me and then be miserable the whole year long.”
Mrs. Gardiner seemed charmed by the confidence for which she had been sworn into secrecy. “You are a good lady and run a good, if cold, house.”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth agreed, “But soon we will be done. We will drink ourselves warm and sing Auld Lang Syne in as ill a key as we can manage.”
Previous days at Pemberley here
Lappenclowns in Cologne Carnival
thanks for merrymaking. i like to believe friendship exists in an evergreen grass field, forever in a waltz, one day we can return to merrymaking. ♈︎
Is this the usual size of 19th-century Roman frogs? That merrymaker in the flirty red pantaloons is in serious danger of losing a foot.
From: Howe, Henry, 1816-1893. The travels and adventures of celebrated travelers in the principal countries of the globe. Cincinnati : Published by Henry Howe, 1853
G463 .H69 1853