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Stillmeadow #2
The book of Stillmeadow by Gladys Bagg Taber
When Gladys Taber and her friend Jill bought the shabby seventeenth-century Connecticut farmhouse, they saw it as a weekend escape from the city for their husbands and children.But eventually they lived there year round, in the old country house they worked hard to restore. This is a book about them and their beloved the flow of the seasons, the garden produce, the neighbors who became friends, the city friends who came to visit, and the children who loved Stillmeadow. It all comes to life in this round-the-calendar record of the changing seasons of the land and of the heart.Gladys Taber's many books have sold altogether over a half million copies. Her magazine columns were read by millions. For her longtime friends, and for all the people who will now begin to enjoy her work, this book (long out of print) has been reissued.[From the inside jacket]
Paperback
First published January 1, 1948
16 people are currently reading
505 people want to read
About the author
Gladys Taber
89 books130 followersA prolific author whose output includes plays, essays, memoirs and fiction, Gladys Taber (1899 – 1980) is perhaps best recalled for a series of books and columns about her life at Stillmeadow, a 17th-century farmhouse in Southbury, Connecticut.
Born Gladys Bagg on April 12, 1899 in Colorado Springs, Colorado, she was the middle child and only one to survive to adulthood. Her parents were Rufus Mather Bagg, who could trace his ancestry back to Cotton Mather, and the former Grace Sibyl Raybold. An older sister, Majel, had died at the age of six months while a younger brother Walter died at 15 months. During her childhood, she moved frequently as her father accepted various teaching posts until they finally settled in Appleton, Wisconsin. Gladys graduated from Appleton High School and enrolled at Wellesley College, receiving her bachelor’s degree in 1920. She returned to her hometown and earned a master’s in 1921 from Lawrence College, where her father was on faculty. The following year, she married Frank Albion Taber, Jr., giving birth to their daughter on July 7, 1923.
Mrs. Taber taught English at Lawrence College, Randolph Macon Women’s College in Lynchburg, Virginia, and at Columbia University, where she did postgraduate studies. She began her literary career with a play, Lady of the Moon (Penn), in 1928, and followed with a book of verse, Lyonesse (Bozart) in 1929. Taber won attention for her first humorous novel, Late Climbs the Sun (Coward, 1934). She went on to write several other novels and short story collections, including Tomorrow May Be Fair ( Coward, 1935), A Star to Steer By (Macrae, 1938) and This Is for Always (Macrae, 1938). In the late 1930s, Taber joined the staff of the Ladies’ Home Journal and began to contribute the column “Diary of Domesticity.”
By this time, she had separated from her husband and was living at Stillmeadow, a farmhouse built in 1690 in Southbury, Connecticut, sharing the house with Eleanor Sanford Mayer, a childhood friend who was often mistakenly identified as her sister. Beginning with Harvest at Stillmeadow (Little, Brown, 1940), Taber wrote a series of books about her simple life in New England that possessed homespun wisdom dolled out with earthy humor and an appreciation for the small things. She published more than 20 books related to Stillmeadow, including several cookbooks.
In 1959, she moved from Ladies’ Home Journal to Family Circle, contributing the “Butternut Wisdom” column until her retirement in 1967. In 1960, her companion, Eleanor, died and Taber decided to abandon life at Stillmeadow. Having spent some summers on Cape Cod in Massachusetts, she decided to relocate to the town of Orleans where she would live out the remainder of her days. While a resident of Orleans, Taber contributed “Still Cove Sketches” to the Cape Cod Oracle . Her final book, published posthumously, was Still Cove Journal (Lippincott, 1981).
Gladys Taber had divorced her husband in 1946 and he later passed away in October 1964. She died on March 11, 1980 in Cape Cod Hospital in Hyannis, Massachusetts at the age of 80.
Born Gladys Bagg on April 12, 1899 in Colorado Springs, Colorado, she was the middle child and only one to survive to adulthood. Her parents were Rufus Mather Bagg, who could trace his ancestry back to Cotton Mather, and the former Grace Sibyl Raybold. An older sister, Majel, had died at the age of six months while a younger brother Walter died at 15 months. During her childhood, she moved frequently as her father accepted various teaching posts until they finally settled in Appleton, Wisconsin. Gladys graduated from Appleton High School and enrolled at Wellesley College, receiving her bachelor’s degree in 1920. She returned to her hometown and earned a master’s in 1921 from Lawrence College, where her father was on faculty. The following year, she married Frank Albion Taber, Jr., giving birth to their daughter on July 7, 1923.
Mrs. Taber taught English at Lawrence College, Randolph Macon Women’s College in Lynchburg, Virginia, and at Columbia University, where she did postgraduate studies. She began her literary career with a play, Lady of the Moon (Penn), in 1928, and followed with a book of verse, Lyonesse (Bozart) in 1929. Taber won attention for her first humorous novel, Late Climbs the Sun (Coward, 1934). She went on to write several other novels and short story collections, including Tomorrow May Be Fair ( Coward, 1935), A Star to Steer By (Macrae, 1938) and This Is for Always (Macrae, 1938). In the late 1930s, Taber joined the staff of the Ladies’ Home Journal and began to contribute the column “Diary of Domesticity.”
By this time, she had separated from her husband and was living at Stillmeadow, a farmhouse built in 1690 in Southbury, Connecticut, sharing the house with Eleanor Sanford Mayer, a childhood friend who was often mistakenly identified as her sister. Beginning with Harvest at Stillmeadow (Little, Brown, 1940), Taber wrote a series of books about her simple life in New England that possessed homespun wisdom dolled out with earthy humor and an appreciation for the small things. She published more than 20 books related to Stillmeadow, including several cookbooks.
In 1959, she moved from Ladies’ Home Journal to Family Circle, contributing the “Butternut Wisdom” column until her retirement in 1967. In 1960, her companion, Eleanor, died and Taber decided to abandon life at Stillmeadow. Having spent some summers on Cape Cod in Massachusetts, she decided to relocate to the town of Orleans where she would live out the remainder of her days. While a resident of Orleans, Taber contributed “Still Cove Sketches” to the Cape Cod Oracle . Her final book, published posthumously, was Still Cove Journal (Lippincott, 1981).
Gladys Taber had divorced her husband in 1946 and he later passed away in October 1964. She died on March 11, 1980 in Cape Cod Hospital in Hyannis, Massachusetts at the age of 80.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 44 reviews
April 1, 2019
The more I read Gladys Taber the more I love her! My mom loved her and it took me a lot longer to pick up a Stillmeadow book than it did mom. I guess I am living the Stillmeadow kind of life vicariously through these books that I try to read one or two a year. What a gift Gladys had with words and the joy that sparks from her month by month contemplations!
October 2, 2025
4.75🌟 Another triumph for Gladys Taber! I never get tired of reading a Stillmeadow memoir!
If I compare The Book of Stillmeadow (#2) to the other book I just finished, Harvest at Stillmeadow (#1), I have to say that The Book of Stillmeadow is a clear winner in terms of enjoyment. The first book in this series (I believe) is simply a collection of monthly articles from the magazine she was working for at the time. Although each of those entries is interesting and well-worth reading, they lack Gladys' friendliness, sparkle and informal "chatty" tone.
In The Book of Stillmeadow, each month starts out with a poem written by Gladys. It's such a lovely addition to the book that I feel so horrible and guilty saying that I don't like her poetry very much. (Perhaps it's just too deep and I don't understand it?) But, for other readers, her poems might be the highlight. For me, the simple descriptions of food, family, friends and nature are the real beauty of the book.
Some point soon, I hope to add all of the passages that I bookmarked (at least 10!) to my Commonplace Journal. (Thank goodness for book darts to hold my place until I get myself organized!)
Although this is not my all-time favorite of GT's books, it's pretty high up there. Highly recommended for any Gladys Taber fan, anyone who enjoys nature writing/domestic memoir, dogs, gardening, food and old-fashioned New England living!
If I compare The Book of Stillmeadow (#2) to the other book I just finished, Harvest at Stillmeadow (#1), I have to say that The Book of Stillmeadow is a clear winner in terms of enjoyment. The first book in this series (I believe) is simply a collection of monthly articles from the magazine she was working for at the time. Although each of those entries is interesting and well-worth reading, they lack Gladys' friendliness, sparkle and informal "chatty" tone.
In The Book of Stillmeadow, each month starts out with a poem written by Gladys. It's such a lovely addition to the book that I feel so horrible and guilty saying that I don't like her poetry very much. (Perhaps it's just too deep and I don't understand it?) But, for other readers, her poems might be the highlight. For me, the simple descriptions of food, family, friends and nature are the real beauty of the book.
Some point soon, I hope to add all of the passages that I bookmarked (at least 10!) to my Commonplace Journal. (Thank goodness for book darts to hold my place until I get myself organized!)
Although this is not my all-time favorite of GT's books, it's pretty high up there. Highly recommended for any Gladys Taber fan, anyone who enjoys nature writing/domestic memoir, dogs, gardening, food and old-fashioned New England living!
April 10, 2020
I've read and re-read Gladys Taber's "Stillmeadow" and "Still Cove" books through the years, finding them calming during difficult times. Not surprisingly, I plucked one off the shelf to read each night during this sad and scary period of life with COVID-19.
One of the many qualities about Taber that I appreciate is her ability to move easily from the small details of her pets, house, gardens, and daily activities; outward to larger subjects of culture, land use, and literature; and on further still to prejudice, aggression, fear, and hate, all within the space of a few pages. Taber doesn't lose her sense of hope or humor, and she isn't pompous, either. She confides in the reader, and I am ready to listen to her thoughtful observations and daily pleasures.
The Book of Stillmeadow was published in 1948, and some of its essays appeared in print eleven years before that. To me, many of Taber's comments seem prescient. In the book's first section, I flagged this sentence: "As we celebrate this year, we must resolve to keep our lives free from racial intolerance, from bigotry and hate. We must do everything we can to defeat cruelty in our own country" (58-59). Struck by how relevant this goal still is in 2020, I started flagging other expressions of appreciation for a variety of people and cultures, and my copy of the book was bristling with flags by the time I finished reading it.
Taber has a positive, generous soul that reaches for light. She writes, "…I sometimes think that when people reach the day in which they see no good in anything different and new, on that day they begin to die. The will to live and the will to grow are the two foundation stones on which humanity is built. During all difficult days, I am determined to keep new interests going, lest I bog down in worry and anxiety. We need to use our time constructively, creatively, if possible" (209). Sound advice in this troubled spring.
Her attention to quotidian details, though, is what keeps me returning to her books: "What a sense of life and comfort there is in the sight of an old farm wagon creaking on a country road, the farmer drowsing on the seat, the horses moving as if they had forever to get there. After being shut away from life for so much of the winter, it is good to see movement again" (104).
While "being shut away from life" myself during this pandemic, I am happy to see the natural world through Taber's shining eyes.
One of the many qualities about Taber that I appreciate is her ability to move easily from the small details of her pets, house, gardens, and daily activities; outward to larger subjects of culture, land use, and literature; and on further still to prejudice, aggression, fear, and hate, all within the space of a few pages. Taber doesn't lose her sense of hope or humor, and she isn't pompous, either. She confides in the reader, and I am ready to listen to her thoughtful observations and daily pleasures.
The Book of Stillmeadow was published in 1948, and some of its essays appeared in print eleven years before that. To me, many of Taber's comments seem prescient. In the book's first section, I flagged this sentence: "As we celebrate this year, we must resolve to keep our lives free from racial intolerance, from bigotry and hate. We must do everything we can to defeat cruelty in our own country" (58-59). Struck by how relevant this goal still is in 2020, I started flagging other expressions of appreciation for a variety of people and cultures, and my copy of the book was bristling with flags by the time I finished reading it.
Taber has a positive, generous soul that reaches for light. She writes, "…I sometimes think that when people reach the day in which they see no good in anything different and new, on that day they begin to die. The will to live and the will to grow are the two foundation stones on which humanity is built. During all difficult days, I am determined to keep new interests going, lest I bog down in worry and anxiety. We need to use our time constructively, creatively, if possible" (209). Sound advice in this troubled spring.
Her attention to quotidian details, though, is what keeps me returning to her books: "What a sense of life and comfort there is in the sight of an old farm wagon creaking on a country road, the farmer drowsing on the seat, the horses moving as if they had forever to get there. After being shut away from life for so much of the winter, it is good to see movement again" (104).
While "being shut away from life" myself during this pandemic, I am happy to see the natural world through Taber's shining eyes.
July 14, 2025
If you want a peaceful and still read, then this is the book you want. I always love dipping into this when I get a spare moment. Gladys writes about day to day life In a way that you feel like you're reading her journal as she writes it from the past. Cockers reign high with her of course, along with good food and people.
February 8, 2020
Reading Gladys Taber's Book of Stillmeadow elicits so much reflective thought. Perhaps it's partly nostalgia for me, triggering the memory of my first introduction to her books back when I lived in the big yellow house. At the time I was nursing a baby and tending to toddlers, and GT's soothing "voice" was such a quiet comfort. She sensitized me to notice and appreciate the beauty of my surroundings. To look outside my window and really SEE the big old apple tree bud, then bloom, and bear fruit. It was soul satisfying to read, to hold my babies close to my heart, and to watch the rhythm of life outside my window.
That apple tree, if it still exists, has seen many more seasons. But here I am, two decades later, drawing again from the inner wealth of that chapter in my life. And as I read Gladys Taber today, I am once again entranced. Her nature descriptions are so evocative, so joyful. She tosses in her simple love for mankind, her kindly hopes for peace on earth (this particular book was written shortly after the end of WWII).
Gladys was a cook, a conservationist, a gardener, a poet, a reader, a teacher, a dog lover, and a Mom. She meanders seamlessly from one subject to another and you never know what's coming next: it could be a recipe, a snippet of a poem, or a report on her spaniels' latest rollicking antics. Somehow it all fits together, like a conversation that flows and evolves.
The simple farm woman guise that Gladys wears so naturally is actually quite deceptive. Underneath, she is a very literary woman whose skillful pen continues to sow love into the heart of her readers forty years after her death.
"Life renews itself, no matter how much we may suffer. Whatever beautiful and precious we may have is always ours to keep." ~Gladys Taber
That apple tree, if it still exists, has seen many more seasons. But here I am, two decades later, drawing again from the inner wealth of that chapter in my life. And as I read Gladys Taber today, I am once again entranced. Her nature descriptions are so evocative, so joyful. She tosses in her simple love for mankind, her kindly hopes for peace on earth (this particular book was written shortly after the end of WWII).
Gladys was a cook, a conservationist, a gardener, a poet, a reader, a teacher, a dog lover, and a Mom. She meanders seamlessly from one subject to another and you never know what's coming next: it could be a recipe, a snippet of a poem, or a report on her spaniels' latest rollicking antics. Somehow it all fits together, like a conversation that flows and evolves.
The simple farm woman guise that Gladys wears so naturally is actually quite deceptive. Underneath, she is a very literary woman whose skillful pen continues to sow love into the heart of her readers forty years after her death.
"Life renews itself, no matter how much we may suffer. Whatever beautiful and precious we may have is always ours to keep." ~Gladys Taber
March 27, 2011
I think this was my fav of all the books she wrote. My stepmother wrote to Mrs. Taber and she wrote back, thus becoming penpals because they both shared a love of dogs, gardening, and drinking tea outside in the crisp morning air, while they watched their dogs romp. (Mrs. Taber's were Iris setters and Cockers, and my Step-mother's were Brittanys).
September 18, 2018
4.5 Stars. The only part I didn’t like was all the talk about her dogs. Which is fine, I’m just not a dog person. She certainly didn’t do it all of the time but when she did, I usually skimmed over most of that section.
That being said, this was a magically lazy-river type of book. It takes you through the year by month starting in November when the family moved into an old homestead in Connecticut that was built in 1690. The charm and character of the place outside and in is beautifully described. Her thoughts are often poetic in nature. She tells fantastically of the nature around her.
I was struck by how many of the same worries of the world she had as most of us do today. I believe this was written in the 1930s, to give perspective. She is so honest and raw you just smile because by the end you just feel like you’re reading letters from a dear friend. Several times she had me crying I was laughing so hard. I would highly recommend this book, a good portion of it is going in my commonplace book.
I look forward to reading others in the series as I am able to find them. Susan Branch originally recommended them in her autobiographical books.
That being said, this was a magically lazy-river type of book. It takes you through the year by month starting in November when the family moved into an old homestead in Connecticut that was built in 1690. The charm and character of the place outside and in is beautifully described. Her thoughts are often poetic in nature. She tells fantastically of the nature around her.
I was struck by how many of the same worries of the world she had as most of us do today. I believe this was written in the 1930s, to give perspective. She is so honest and raw you just smile because by the end you just feel like you’re reading letters from a dear friend. Several times she had me crying I was laughing so hard. I would highly recommend this book, a good portion of it is going in my commonplace book.
I look forward to reading others in the series as I am able to find them. Susan Branch originally recommended them in her autobiographical books.
September 12, 2015
Charming -- the type of book to take down from the shelf seasonally and read nostalgic essays related to the simple life. Hearth and home matters month by month....a nice comfort read.
January 21, 2025
I'm a long time fan of Gladys Taber, going back to the days of my childhood when she wrote a column for Ladies Home Journal magazine. Growing up on a farm in the Great Plains I was very envious of Stillmeadow, her place in the Connecticut countryside, where spring flowers or gorgeous fall leaves and berries seemed to linger for months. My experience of spring was - oh, look, the sun has come out and now it's hot. And fall in a country with only cottonwood and Russian olive trees isn't very colorful, no matter what it used to say on our license plates. (Colorful Colorado!)
It's been decades since I read any of her work, and I did remember that this wasn't my favorite of the many she wrote about Stillmeadow. Still, I found myself disappointed with this book. There was too much about the dogs and not enough about the farm or the family to hold my interest. I love the nature parts so much, and the glimpses into life there, but I wanted more. I do believe some of her other books have more, so I'll keep getting them from the library. But I can only give this 2.5 stars, rounded up for old-times sake.
It's been decades since I read any of her work, and I did remember that this wasn't my favorite of the many she wrote about Stillmeadow. Still, I found myself disappointed with this book. There was too much about the dogs and not enough about the farm or the family to hold my interest. I love the nature parts so much, and the glimpses into life there, but I wanted more. I do believe some of her other books have more, so I'll keep getting them from the library. But I can only give this 2.5 stars, rounded up for old-times sake.
October 11, 2017
Although I'd heard about Gladys Taber, it wasn't until a friend on Facebook posted a wonderful quote that I decided I needed to give her a read, and oh, I'm so glad I did. Gladys Tabor (1899-1980) authored 75 books, 8 of which compose 'The Stillmeadow' series. She and a friend purchased a 1690 farmhouse in Sudbury, Connecticut and eventually wound up living there with their families. In addition to running a small farm, they bred cocker spaniels which they were rather reluctant to part with. So the household also included half dozen dogs and two cats. The Book of Stillmeadow is organized with each chapter representing a month from November to October, and it is all a great breath of fresh air! Reading is like going home to another place and time, feeling the exhilaration of living, working, loving and playing in the great outdoors by season on a farm. Her feel for nature and living things, family and friends, casts a warm glow. The humor is wonderful, as is the nature writing. I'm in for the series, and happy to read anything she wrote!
February 26, 2021
2021 bk 27. The second of Taber's books about her Connecticut farm. In this one she takes it month by month, sharing the details of life on the farm that bring her happiness. Puppies seem to be number one (even perhaps over her own children - or perhaps she made a pact with them to not share details of their lives?). Each month includes a reference to a past problem that was solved, but mostly settles on how much happier she is in the country living her life with the puppies, Jill (who in one book is referred to as her sister and another as her best friend from childhood). This book also catches us just after the ending of WWII - and there are many references to past rationing, the loss of men, thankfulness that democracy won the battle, and the celebration of the joys of life. A good calming read.
June 4, 2024
Normally, I like these kinds of books. But this one jumped around a lot--I think it is a "best of" book versus one of her more cohesive books.
August 23, 2024
I loved this peaceful series found at an estate sale.
June 1, 2022
After reading several of her delightful books, I'm sad to say this is my least favorite. I felt she wrote too much in it about their dogs and cats with a lot of it feeling repetitive. I'm a dog lover, but it was really just too much for this reader and not nearly as enjoyable as her other Stillmeadow books.
June 21, 2021
Although Gladys Taber has a cult following her books are not quite my cup of tea. I adore
Lucy Maud Montgomery and Beverley Nichols however Gladys Taber didn’t strike a flame for me. There were several dreamily artistic literary inclusions however I found myself muddling through season after season, page upon page of her often mundane life amongst endlessly inconsequential references to the goings-on of her cats and cocker spaniel troop. I was thereby embarked upon a reading trek to reach juicy morsels which were unfortunately much too fleetingly brief. I don’t mind at all reading books without a plot because I often prefer them however I do mind if they are riddled by cumbersome detail.
Further, Taber often used the word, that, when it was unnecessary and the layman’s word, whole, to describe the whole earth, the whole field, etc. while other more polished words might be considered as a replacement such as the word, entire. She also used the word, foam, several times to describe certain aspects which weren’t particularly foamy. The loathsome word, like, was additionally a bit overused. In general her wording is a little too simple at moments for my taste.
Taber mentions far too many times of her woeful uncomprehending of evil in the world and of prejudice etc. If she lived today she would most likely be a screaming, hypocritical liberal living in her white wonderland whilst calling for open borders and equality. People of her ignorance fail to comprehend the rest of us unfortunate enough to not live in the charming quaintness of the countryside hence we deal directly with the mass of third worlders and their backward, overbreeding, crime filled ways. Needless to say I found this irksome in my struggle to continue reading. Taber should have watched The Greatest Story Never Told by Dennis Wise and researched the “Kalergi Plan” along with reading, The Protocols of the Elders of Zion. She also suffers from Christ insanity.
Finally, Taber’s world is a remarkably honorable life however this doesn’t mean I wish to read every last minutiae of her and Jill waxing their furniture each Spring. It was deeply moving to learn how much Taber exponentially appreciates the beauty of nature and all living creatures aside from cows strangely enough. I too live a simple, often mundane life as she did therefore I don’t care to read humdrum details about it. While there are moments the book was quite charming in warmth of heart, all in all it wasn’t the type of bookcraft to swoon me. It would be desirable if all the more wondrous descriptions in her publications could be extracted into a single volume so one wouldn’t have to muddle through as it were.
I’m disappointed because I was hoping to love this publication; henceforth I doubt I’ll be reading anymore of her books.
Here are my favourite passages from the June chapter worthy of extraction as follows:
p.175
“An all-white bouquet is lovely. So is an all-white garden. Last year at the National Flower Show in New York there was a white garden and it seemed perfect. There were tall pearly white tulips, and white massed shrubs—azaleas, I thought—behind them, and white blossoming fruit trees making a background. There were white pansies for groundcover under the tulips, and the little inner, secret resting place was a frosty wrought iron Victorian bench. It seemed as if anyone who sat on the wrought iron bench under the blossoming pear tree might find all her young dreams again.”
p.167-168
“June in New England is like a lover’s dream made tangible. Color and scent and sound; the hills indeed sing. Dawn comes so fresh and cool, and dusk flows like a still river into the deep sea of night. Noons are tranquil gold. There is nothing stern or sober about our Northern countryside now; even the grey rock ledges are gently blurred with silvery green lichens, and in the great cracks time has chipped out, a thousand tiny plants get a precarious hold.
Lilacs make their own purple dusk all day, or lift dreamy clusters of pure pearl. Their scent is cool and mysterious. It is surely one of the most romantic smells—it reminds me of old deserted gardens where long-vanished ladies come again to walk in the moonlight.
The white lilacs have a special delicacy, a purity. I always feel too solid when I pick them, and pick them I must! Their odor is even sweeter. I am sure in the dark of the moon my unicorn comes on delicate little hoofs to find a place where the white lilacs grow and crop the flowers. I can tell where he has moved, because the leaves are a little swayed aside. His horn is silver and his eyes are amber. A white unicorn feeding on white lilacs would be a fine sight to see.”
Lucy Maud Montgomery and Beverley Nichols however Gladys Taber didn’t strike a flame for me. There were several dreamily artistic literary inclusions however I found myself muddling through season after season, page upon page of her often mundane life amongst endlessly inconsequential references to the goings-on of her cats and cocker spaniel troop. I was thereby embarked upon a reading trek to reach juicy morsels which were unfortunately much too fleetingly brief. I don’t mind at all reading books without a plot because I often prefer them however I do mind if they are riddled by cumbersome detail.
Further, Taber often used the word, that, when it was unnecessary and the layman’s word, whole, to describe the whole earth, the whole field, etc. while other more polished words might be considered as a replacement such as the word, entire. She also used the word, foam, several times to describe certain aspects which weren’t particularly foamy. The loathsome word, like, was additionally a bit overused. In general her wording is a little too simple at moments for my taste.
Taber mentions far too many times of her woeful uncomprehending of evil in the world and of prejudice etc. If she lived today she would most likely be a screaming, hypocritical liberal living in her white wonderland whilst calling for open borders and equality. People of her ignorance fail to comprehend the rest of us unfortunate enough to not live in the charming quaintness of the countryside hence we deal directly with the mass of third worlders and their backward, overbreeding, crime filled ways. Needless to say I found this irksome in my struggle to continue reading. Taber should have watched The Greatest Story Never Told by Dennis Wise and researched the “Kalergi Plan” along with reading, The Protocols of the Elders of Zion. She also suffers from Christ insanity.
Finally, Taber’s world is a remarkably honorable life however this doesn’t mean I wish to read every last minutiae of her and Jill waxing their furniture each Spring. It was deeply moving to learn how much Taber exponentially appreciates the beauty of nature and all living creatures aside from cows strangely enough. I too live a simple, often mundane life as she did therefore I don’t care to read humdrum details about it. While there are moments the book was quite charming in warmth of heart, all in all it wasn’t the type of bookcraft to swoon me. It would be desirable if all the more wondrous descriptions in her publications could be extracted into a single volume so one wouldn’t have to muddle through as it were.
I’m disappointed because I was hoping to love this publication; henceforth I doubt I’ll be reading anymore of her books.
Here are my favourite passages from the June chapter worthy of extraction as follows:
p.175
“An all-white bouquet is lovely. So is an all-white garden. Last year at the National Flower Show in New York there was a white garden and it seemed perfect. There were tall pearly white tulips, and white massed shrubs—azaleas, I thought—behind them, and white blossoming fruit trees making a background. There were white pansies for groundcover under the tulips, and the little inner, secret resting place was a frosty wrought iron Victorian bench. It seemed as if anyone who sat on the wrought iron bench under the blossoming pear tree might find all her young dreams again.”
p.167-168
“June in New England is like a lover’s dream made tangible. Color and scent and sound; the hills indeed sing. Dawn comes so fresh and cool, and dusk flows like a still river into the deep sea of night. Noons are tranquil gold. There is nothing stern or sober about our Northern countryside now; even the grey rock ledges are gently blurred with silvery green lichens, and in the great cracks time has chipped out, a thousand tiny plants get a precarious hold.
Lilacs make their own purple dusk all day, or lift dreamy clusters of pure pearl. Their scent is cool and mysterious. It is surely one of the most romantic smells—it reminds me of old deserted gardens where long-vanished ladies come again to walk in the moonlight.
The white lilacs have a special delicacy, a purity. I always feel too solid when I pick them, and pick them I must! Their odor is even sweeter. I am sure in the dark of the moon my unicorn comes on delicate little hoofs to find a place where the white lilacs grow and crop the flowers. I can tell where he has moved, because the leaves are a little swayed aside. His horn is silver and his eyes are amber. A white unicorn feeding on white lilacs would be a fine sight to see.”
March 17, 2016
Gladys Taber's words are beautiful and many thoughts were so valuable I kept notepad close by to jot them for future reference. Her Stillmeadow was written closely following WWII and the trauma and sadness from that period hangs about between her words so kindly. This cottage in Connecticut is a retreat from the busy day to day working world in a way. They grow most of their vegetables and fruit, the little house is quite old and has little of the modern conveniences. The 30 plus cocker spaniels living with the family and several cats make life so lovely for those of us that have pets. Here follows a quote from May to be savored, "One thing I have decided about happiness is that it is not something external which you have or have not. To me it is the quality of the spirit of being able to realize completely whatever joy you may have and to do this at the moment. Happiness is a thing of now." And, one more from October, "'I will lift mine eyes to the hills', (biblical) gold, scarlet, bronze, russet; living fire re-establish God's good will to earth." "I often think how pleasant it would be if I could rake up my dead hopes, my faded illusions and burn them like fallen leaves and then begin with clean boughs for Spring!" Such joy in this marvelous book.
May 25, 2020
Not high literature, but... this is a genuinely sweet book, full of reminiscing, pondering, and daily living documented with humor and heartfelt commentary. The author writes like an old friend sending you newsy, friendly missives from her Connecticut farmhouse in the immediate aftermath of the Second World War. Many tales of Gladys Taber's family, friends, neighbors, dogs, cats, kitchen and garden; Taber laces the text with fanciful notions, philosophical meanderings and genuine spirituality. A lovely way to occupy your mind in a challenging time. This text is brimming over with deep thoughts and feelings from a very down to earth lady. A profoundly humane book.
February 21, 2017
Gladys Taber has such a beautiful way of looking at life. She describes the simple pleasures of cooking, gardening, working on a farm, taking care of an old house, and raising dogs with such gentleness and peace that I feel peaceful as well. It's not that everything goes right. It doesn't. But Gladys keeps her head in the midst of life's challenges and reminds her readers to notice the little things and appreciate simple pleasures.
June 24, 2016
I loved this charming book! It's a series of seasonal essays about life on the farm, mainly a hobby farm. It takes place in the 1940s. Not only does Taber give detailed accounts of her life on her farm, but she has thoughts about politics, acceptance, tolerance etc that apply today. I will read more of her works for sure.
March 25, 2016
Gladys Taber's writing sends me to a different time and space. I find myself pining to be at Stillmeadow with her. Beautiful words she weaves. Love love her books!!!!
September 27, 2008
A bit dated and very sentimental, but restful.
April 29, 2018
A friend who knows my love of Miss Read books suggested Gladys Tabor. I started with Mrs. Daffodil. Not my favorite as it seemed somewhat scattered, though I did enjoy the authors ability to show the joy in everyday life. I didn't realize how famous Tabor was and how big her fandom still is, until one of her devotees took my review of Mrs. Daffodil to task :D I decided to do a little more research on the author and check out her other books. I'm so glad I did, as I really enjoyed The Book of Stillmeadow. I've been feeling like despite our modern "connectedness" we are more unconnected than ever. Tabor's Stillmeadow brings back the days of working the garden, raising the kids and the doggies, having friends over for a simple meal and a bottle of wine, enjoying the changes of seasons. You know, the days of being present in life rather than staring at the smart phone.
Enjoyable read and have moved on to the next book in the series, Stillmeadow Seasons.
Enjoyable read and have moved on to the next book in the series, Stillmeadow Seasons.
April 29, 2021
Reading this book was like taking a stroll with a kind woman through a meadow. Gladys Taber is out of print and difficult to purchase, and that is a tragedy, because while this book was written after WWII, much of what she discusses is very contemporary. Gladys talks about the home as the center of happiness and how feeding and caring for those we love are the true joys of life. She also, surprisingly, talks about justice and fairness in a world that is cruel. I took my time reading this, like you would eating a lovely dessert, and I’m glad I did.
September 21, 2018
I really need a plot to keep me engaged and this is more of a meditative kind of book. I would be pondering the seasons, the brotherhood of man, or cocker spaniels one minute and wiping drool off my chin the next.
July 26, 2024
I only recently learned about Gladys Taber and this is my first book by her! I can't wait to read more. I already know that she is a new favorite author for me. Her writing style makes me feel like I'm right there with her experiencing all the delightful activities of her life.
December 28, 2024
A cozy monthly diary of the author's life on her country house, inspiring for those who wanna live in tune with the seasons.
I wanted to read it month by month but I lost track of which months I read and which I didn't. I'll consider it finished for now.
I wanted to read it month by month but I lost track of which months I read and which I didn't. I'll consider it finished for now.
November 11, 2025
I adore this sort of book. It chronicles the year: winter thru spring, summer, and fall on their little farm in New England. It's set just at the beginning of the second world war. Recipes, patterns of life and patterns of the land around them. I'll read it again in a few year.
December 18, 2025
I love how Gladys gives you all the cozy details of gardening, canning, cooking, housekeeping, and every little thing else in life. Her sense of wit and humor, keep you turning the pages wanting more!
July 22, 2017
My all time favorite book! It takes me back to a different time, an era I wish I had been born in. This is always my go-to book when I want to relax and take a metal vacation from our crazy world.
December 20, 2018
Delightful reading
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