As one peruses the Santons literature, one discovers lists here and there of the specific Provençal characters vital to the creche.    What makes the Santons creche so charming is that it is set not in Bethlehem, but rather in Provence.  The nativity figures are in biblical dress.  The additional creche figures typify characters found in an 18th or 19th century Provençal village, resulting in a year-in, year-out celebration of the area’s history. The most authoritative list that we have found is from the book Provençal Figurines by C. Galtier and E. Cattin, translated by John Lee (Editions Ouest-France, 13 rue du Breil, Rennes, 1996).  They make specific reference to “A Referendum for the Ideal Creche.”  Reportedly, L’Armana Prouvençau (a newspaper which we understand to be devoted to the preservation of the Provençal dialect and of all things Provençal) in 1968 published a list of 55 Santons (not including the the basic nativity figures) from which they asked their readership to vote on which belonged in the “ideal creche.”

L’Armana Prouvençau published the top 20 selected, with the number of votes received in the captions.  If you click on the photos you will be taken to the figure we offer in size #2.  Almost all (or their equivalent) are available in all four sizes:  Puce, #1, #2, and #3.

The Shepherd - le Berger (23,000 votes)

The Delighted One - le Ravi (21,414)

The Blind Man - l'Aveugle (16,734)

The Old Folk - Les Vieux (16,704)

The Miller - le Meunier (16,170)

Roustido (14,820)

Margarido (14,070)

The Gypsy - le Bohémien (13,614)

Pistachie - le Pistaché (12,237)

Bartholomew - Bartoumiéu (10,476)

Jourdan - Jourdan (10,145)

The Tambourine-man - le Tambourinaire (10,122)

The Fishwife - la Poissonniêre (9,937)

The Hunter - le Chasseur (8,070)

The Angler - le Pêcheur à la ligne (6,042)

The Reeling-girl - la Fileuse (5,640)

Woman carrying Wood - la Porteuse de fagots (5,148)

The Woman carrying Garlic - la Porteuse d'ail (4,188)

The Shepherdess - la Bergère (3,432)

A varietyof other lists of the “basic Santons” vital to the creche scene include:

The Baker - le Boulanger

The Basketmaker - Vincent le vannier

The Dairymaid - Laitiêre

The Mayor - Monsieur le Maire

The Parish Priest - Monsieur le curé

The Washerwoman - Bugadière

The Woman with a Cradle - Femme au Berceau

The Woman with a Rabbit - Femme au lapin

An interesting observation is that in my research I discovered several sources that suggested that there were “55 essential figures to the basic Santons nativity.”  This statement exists in several renown French guide books.  I have the feeling that the “55″ figure is mistakenly derived from Galtier’s book, where he quotes L’Armana Prouvençeau and the fact that in doing their survey they provided a list of 55 Santons from which they asked their readership to select the 20 most ideal.  If you know otherwise, we would appreciate your comments.  We would also be interested in hearing from you regarding which figures you feel are essential.

January is always fun.  The hustle, bustle, and even at times frenetic pace of December is behind one and to be honest all that ultra busy-ness is in fact missed a bit.  Yet, January brings with its slower pace, even more direct communication with customers.  Customers write to share how meaningful an item is to their Christmas, to their family, or simply to themselves as an individual.    They tell us about their favorites, both new and old.  We especially enjoy hearing from people who are seeking a replacement for a cherished family piece.

It was for this reason that we set up the replacement section for the true classic, the Bride’s Tree set.  We receive emails or telephone calls wondering whether we have or can find a specific Inge Glas ornament.  We can never make promises, but, because we have in the past purchased inventories from other shops going out of business, we keep a list of what people are looking for, on the chance that we might some day be able to let them know we now have what they seek in stock.  We hear from people wanting to know whether we will have enough of a special ornament next season – so that they can plan to use them as gifts.  When we can (each year Inge Glas retires some ornaments and adds others) we add these requests to our annual Inge Glas order in March and notify the customer when they are available in mid-summer.

Because the Marcel Carbonel workshop maintains a static inventory, My Growing Traditons offers a pre-order button for Santons.  There is no commitment to buy when you pre-order.  We tally our restock requests and add them specifically to our next order.  We notify you when they are received, should you still be interested.  For the larger sizes (Sizes #4 and #5), we take special orders over the telephone (1-877-831-6077) for  figures and accessories that we don’t routinely carry and do ask for a 25% down payment.  You will receive an invoice by email recording your down payment.  And, again, you will be notified when we have your pieces.  The resource section of this blog (see Archives by Categories) will soon provides pdfs of the Santons catalogs, including Sizes #4 and #5, that we do not stock.  If you want, we can send you a brochure for the size of your choice (Puce, and Sizes #1 through Size 5).    Email us at admin@mygrowingtraditions.com, and we will pop one in the mail.  We usually place our Santons order in March in order to receive it late summer.

And, of course, we do the same for all the other products we carry.  Some we can reorder, some are unique to each year.

We are particularly impressed by the numbers of customers who in the process of tucking away this year’s Christmas, plan for Christmas 2012, especially when it comes to Advent Calendars.  This is something we understand, as somehow Advent has a tendency to suddenly appear in the sphere of our busy lives.  When that last minute thing happens, we are always happy to express mail what you need, but thought that for those who want to stay ahead, you might find it useful if we created an annual after Christmas sale on Advent Calendars.  So that is what we have done.

We experience charming trends at times. The year President Obama was elected, we sold the Black King Santon like we never have before.  When the Obama’s got their dog, a Portuguese Water Dog, Bo, the Santons dog (which is quaintly similar to Bo in appearance) became ever so popular.  And we have enjoyed  the fact that with the emphasis on buying food locally, the Gardener has been an enormous favorite.  Future posts will discuss popular and classic Marcel Carbonel Santons and Inge Glas ornaments.   There are so many variations on our celebration of Christmas – and all are perfection.

The putting away of Christmas is a thoughtful time – the extended family has returned to their respective homes and we settle down to embracing the work of 2012.  As the ornaments are removed and the tree finds a new home on the edge of the yard, we once again reminisce each ornament’s history and receive pleasure in knowing that the tree returns to being shelter for the birds.  Somehow, even in retirement, we establish new traditions.  This year, for the first time, it was the family botanist who placed the greens, tucking them in here and there around our home.  They are so artfully placed it is difficult to want to remove them, even with the thought of saying goodbye to the holiday and enjoying the process of “sweeping clean” for the New Year.  We were ever so pleased to have been researching Candlemas, and to have found a reference to the fact that Candlemas, February 2nd, is not only a Christian commemoration of the presentation of Jesus at the Temple, a festival of lights celebrating the half-way point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox (in particular the strengthening of the life-giving force of the sun), but also a designated day for the putting away of the greens of Christmas.   And thus we shall wait.  We shall savor the continuing presence of the greens. We do admit that one of the happiest parts of Christmas is bringing the tree into the house–we often reflect as it happens that we don’t actually need lights and decorations, that just having the tree inside is perfection, in fact one large perfection in a series of holiday perfections that make the season so meaningful.   Now we have something new to look forward to, adding this tradition plus a small celebration of Candlemas on February 2nd.  Life is good!

Epiphany, the twelfth and final day of Christmas, the day of the Three Kings (the Wise Men or Magi – Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar) rests on January 6th in the Western world.   It is on the twelfth day of Christmas that the Three Kings reach Jesus in Bethlehem.  January 6th commemorates the coming of the Magi and the presence of Christ in the world.

In the world of Santons, the coming of Mary and Joseph to the Stable, the arrival of Jesus, and then the arrival of the Three Kings are all celebrated.  The Carbonel Santons workshop offers distinct figures for the advent of Mary and Joseph in their Size #2, Elite Santons.

When the nativity is set-up in a family’s home they first place Advent Mary and Joseph at a distinct distance from the stable and move them closer day by day.

On Christmas Eve the Advent Set is put away and the kneeling Mary and Joseph are placed in the creche.

Christmas morning, of course, the Christ Child arrives.

And then the three Kings commence their journey, beginning in a spot distant from the creche, and then as with Advent Mary and Joseph, move a little bit closer each day,  finally arriving in Bethlehem at the stable on January 6 to rejoice in Christ’s birth.

Living in Rabat, Morocco from 1966 through 1968, was to enjoy an amazing combination of the Moroccan and French cultures–two distinct and beautiful experiences and so diverse in every way:  the ocean/sea and beaches; mountains and desert; modern towns complete with medinas and mellahs; shops and markets offering the best of Europe and Morocco; Arabs and Berbers; French and Spaniards; Mosques and Roman ruins; Citroens, camels and donkeys; day-in, day-out life and festivals of every make.   These were the years of our first Christmases as a young married couple and in hindsight I realize that living in that Mediterranean culture very much set the seed for my love of Santons. The Moroccan/French world has so many similarities to Provence. Morocco was a French Protectorate from 1912 until 1956 (with the exception of areas in the northeastern part of the country which fell under the rule of Spain). The Santons were found in a bookstore window on Avenue Mohammed V in Rabat.  At the time I didn’t begin to understand what they were, beyond being this delightful French nativity set.  I knew then a bit more about the importance of Germany in the world of Christmas and was delighted to travel from Rabat to Heidelberg and find a toy store near the  Hotel Ritter (where we stayed in the singular room on the very tippy-top floor),  complete with a wonderful selection of German ornaments. This was the beginning of Christmases to come – French Santons and German ornaments – cultural traditions well established for hundreds of years.

In Rabat, we started out at the Hotel Balima and quickly found La Mamma (had no doubt that the Balima would be there to this day, but amazed that La Mamma is thriving – their Calzone wood-fired pizza was the ultimate–we have never found its equal anywhere else in our travels). The best of both the French and Moroccan cuisines.  Markets laden with the freshest of fruits and vegetables (superb dates, oranges, melons, olives), seafood (from the Mediterranean and to include our first adventure in cooking snails) and meat (where it soon became apparent that it was important to know which were the butchers selling beef and mutton–and which were the ones selling horse meat–and even pork.  Yes, we served a suckling pig to a special group of guests).

We spent that first Christmas on the edge of the desert, in Tafraoute.  We travelled south, choosing to adventure along roads that were “as the crow flies” between Taroudant and Tafraoute.  The road was on the map, but was not in any way car-friendly.  It was dry, dusty, and ruled by enormous ruts (and I do not exaggerate).  I remember the children who would appear from out of nowhere by the side of the road holding out amethyst crystals, yelling:  “ame-T-hyst, ame-T-hyst.”  We stopped and bought.  How could one not.  Once we had travelled far enough, it was clear that we did not, in any way, want to continue, but it made no sense to turn back.  We owned two vehicles, an MG sedan and the Simca.  Wisely, we had the Simca with us, knowing that if the car had problems, it would be conceivable to repair it beyond a town-center.  Indeed, the car broke down – the accelerator cable a casualty of the road.  While my husband removed a shoelace from his boots to make “the” repair (that shoelace, by the way, carried us for the next two weeks, all the way back to Rabat), I remember watching the dung beetles methodically rolling their reward millimeter by millimeter up the road.  Fascinating.

Hours later than we had anticipated, we finally arrived at our Christmas destination – the Hotel les Amandiers, in a former French Foreign Legion post.  (The large edifice in the foreground of the photo below.)

Powered by generators during the day, there was no electricity at night.   Christmas Eve by candle light was complete with the traditional French réveillon de Noel  (as celebratory as the Thirteen desserts of Provence) – soupe de legumes, turkey with a chestnut stuffing, wonderful vegetables, and for dessert, the traditional French bûche de Noël.

On the way home, we drove north along the coast, through Agadir, and saw for the first time the spectacle of goats climbing in Argan trees.

I think of them each and every time I wrap up a Grazing Goat – Chèvre qui broute for a customer.   The undigested pits of the argan fruit (much like an olive) found in the dung of the goats which climb the Argan trees to eat their fruit, were collected by the locals and ground for their oil.  UNESCO now protects the tree (an endangered species) valued for its oil, used both in cooking and for health.

In 1951 our family moved to Paris where my father would work at the American Embassy – travelling from New York to Le Havre on Holland America line’s Nieuw Amsterdam.  As a young child, simply travelling on an ocean liner was more than exciting. However, the indelible image that is in fact stuck in my brain is the first and very heavy impression of the seriously bombed out port of Le Havre.  I don’t remember whether anyone at the time explained. Paris brought living for weeks in a hotel on the Marne River while my father sought housing.  A true animal lover, he was especially delighted by Paris’ Sunday Marché aux Oiseaux (Bird Market).  The market resulted in an instant nine additions to our family – 4 parakeets, 4 finches, and 1 wood thrush.  A bit tight in the hotel.

Our home in Bois d'Arcy

Bois d’Arcy showing the Birds’ Atelier

Bois d’Arcy

Next came the house and the house that he found came with all its own charm.  A hunting lodge from the era of Louis XIV in the town of Bois d’Arcy, just on the edge of Versailles, on the outskirts of Paris, was rented from Yvonne Hagen.  Our new home afforded a delightful third-floor view of Versailles’ Bastille day fireworks, a small garden with fruit trees and currant vines, modern plumbing and a third floor walk-up latrine, an atelier (the perfect home for the oiseaux), a rather crusty French maid by the name of Alice and daily afternoon tea (real tea with milk and sugar to be sure) complete with amazing confections from the local bakery–napoleons and eclairs, etc., etc, and some rather regular checking-up on from the curious local parish priest.   What the priest did not understand was why these American children were not in school, and he memorably taught us the joys of eating raw sugar snap peas from his garden.  Weeks later the school “bus” to get us to the American School in Paris arrived  – a US Army jeep with a Sargeant as its driver and two other young passengers whose father worked at SHAPE Hqs.

Life was not what it was in the suburbs of Washington, DC and we children did not mind.

Back to Paris

At this point, I know clearly that in Bois d’Arcy I was already enamored with France, but more than that I am quite certain that moving into the heart of Paris is the basis for my love of all cities.  From the hunting lodge we moved to an elegant apartment at 17 Avenue d’Eylau–immediately out of the Trocadero with a straight shot view of the Eiffel Tower from our balconies.  Silk wall coverings, double parlors with their chaise lounges (a wonderful space for youthful gymnastics), a dining room that seated at least 20, a kitchen and maids’ quarters down a long hallway, and an elevator that required one to tug on its ropes to start its ascent and which led one out onto a bustling Parisian street.  We could walk to the limonade store, the bakery, the park, the acquarium, the carousel.  Across the street was the mysterious French gymnasium where the children filed into the school building early in the morning (Saturdays included–until noon) in their uniforms and with their satchels on their backs.

My mother filled the maids’ rooms with two young women from Scandinavia – one from Norway, the other from Sweden.  She hired the most delightful German nanny.  She and my father were now easily able to enjoy the night life – Maxims,  La Tour d’Argent (a china duck from the Tour d’Argent sits in my china cabinet; they simply could not resist taking home a souvenir the evening Clark Gable was also present).  We were transported to school in a large, comfortable coach-style bus.  A communist shot at one of our school buses, resulting in the issuance of “dog tags” for all – just in case.  Embassy birthday parties with clowns and Punch and Judy puppet shows.

The beautiful French language.  The lights of the city.  The traffic.  The markets.  The bakeries.  The cafes.  Christmas with all new French ornaments, a bûche de noel (the ornaments and the yule log’s two little red gnomes hang on our Christmas tree to this day), and the King’s cake of Epiphany with its crown and prize for the one who received the chosen slice.   Little pieces of magic.  The advantages of knowing everyday Paris in the early 1950s  – the people,  the celebrations, the sights, the sounds, the tastes, the smells – all a part of an exquisite French experience.   To grow up not only in one’s own culture, but to be introduced to another as a child – an experience that changes one for life.