Despite the pressure to spend, spend, spend, the simple pleasures of a thrifty Christmas are what matters most, says Andrew Oldham…
With the arrival of December, it is easy for me to hope that the garden has gone to sleep and that the next time I will be out there is when the first buds break on the fruit trees. That’s what I really want to think but then there’s the reality of growing: there’s weeds out there taunting me by growing in the cold and wet, there’s garlic on the kitchen table waiting to be planted when the weather breaks, there’s fruit trees to be pruned to encourage growth and I have to fit a growing list into a possible few hours were it doesn’t snow, rain or blow me away.
THE REALITY OF WINTER IN THE GARDEN
Even a simple job, like tying in the cherry fans becomes an endurance task. Just as my fingers start to warm up to tie back the branches to their frames the sun leaves, the wind clatters and I am plunged into an icy coldness that means my bones won’t thaw until July. The next morning as I looked out all I could see was an icy whiteness, the depth of my knees, and those cherry trees I tied back to the frames, as my fingers turned blue, had snapped under the weight of the snow. That is the nature of winter on our hillside, it either gambles in like a newborn lamb on spring grass or the lamb hires a tank to do doughnuts on the pasture. My to do list grows more and more, but one thing usurps the planting of the garlic and the pulling of weeds: fix things. ‘Fix things’ is the universal call by gardeners in winter.
THE ADVENTUROUS LIFE OF THE GREENHOUSE DOWNSPOUTS
At the moment, I am in a personal war with the downspouts on my greenhouse. In the last month they have developed lemming instincts and regularly throw themselves into the icy cold depths of my water butts or sail over the hedge to visit my neighbour. I have used silicone and glue to keep them in place, used a Heath Robinson clip of wire and string, to no avail. I have even threatened them with legal action, waggling my finger at them as my neighbour has looked over the hedge and asked, ‘Are you okay?’ I have prayed to what gods that are listening for them to stay where they are supposed to be, on my greenhouse, but alas they go a-wandering with the wind and the rain, and the snow. The only reason I am so worried about my downspouts is that if I lose them, I won’t be able to get replacements because they don’t make my greenhouse anymore. Since I put it up, greenhouses have gone from a slight stretch of my wallet to a cost that makes me sob each time I open a greenhouse catalogue. Touch wood, as I withdraw to the warmth of our cottage, the greenhouse has stood for over a decade and continues to be belligerent and stubborn in the face of the wind. If it went over winter, I doubt I could afford anything more than an umbrella. The worry that one day I will go out there after a storm and it will be gone hangs heavy on me at this time of year. It happened to my polytunnel which landed in someone’s back garden a few miles away during a storm. A complete waste of money.
A LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS, CELEBRATING IN THE WINTER
Going indoors is where I am driven in the foulest of weather, like a fish out of water, I mope around in the kitchen and family room, then become incredibly giddy with the arrival of Christmas. For me, Christmas is about celebrating the light in the darkness, it’s a roaring fire, good food and family. I don’t care about the gifts.The arrival of the Winter Equinox, Yule, is my greatest gift as it is the turning of the great wheel and from that day, the days get longer, and the garden beckons.
When we first arrived at our cottage on a hillside with little in the way of cash, Carol was expecting our son, and the snow came. Our then neighbour, a farmer, stated for us not to worry, he could get us to the hospital in his 4×4 and as the snow drifts grew, he soothed Carol’s growing fears that he could only get us out by tractor. Then as the only road down from our hillside filled up, and the local pub closed because no one could get there, and the world vanished under a ten-foot snowdrift, the farmer reminded us that it was all fine, he’d birthed cows.
Thirteen years later, the farmer is gone, and our financial situation has changed; we are not rich, we never will be, but we are rich in the way that matters. I am overly fond of those. first few Christmases we had here because we became frugally creative, and it has stuck ever since.
Our first advent calendar for our son, which we still use today, was twenty-four stripey paper bags, the old-fashioned ones from a sweetshop, and with some creativity involving numbers, paper and glue, we had our advent calendar. It meant that we could bake things, make things including old bottles refashioned as Christmas trees, using bottle tops (yes, we went all Blue Peter) and generally fill our holiday and the advent calendar with secondhand finds that delighted our son.
It still does to this day. We realised Christmas doesn’t have to bankrupt us to spread joy. We looked for ways to spread happiness further to our community. One year I gave away Piccalilli that I had made from summer produce to our neighbours, the cost was nothing, but the love and joy was there. We still have friends ask for it for Christmas instead of a card. Cards have always been too expensive for us, and the postage cost now is the cost of our first Christmas here.
CHRISTMAS IS NOT ABOUT MONEY BUT ABOUT LOVE
We are fans of sweet things at Christmas but learnt that it was also a big expense and con. How many of us find gone off chocolate from Christmas at Easter? There’s only so much sugar you can stuff in a toddler, adult or teenager, without them exploding in a frenzy or breaking out in spots.
We learnt to make our own, from chocolate bars stuffed with candy canes, to Carol’s Chelsea Bun Christmas trees. Costs went down but the element of sharing went up. From day one in our cottage on the hillside we agreed to leave behind the madness of a season that starts before Halloween and screams, ‘Buy, buy, buy,’ right up to the New Year. Suddenly our budget fitted the season, as our budget fitted the garden, as our budget fitted the bills.
We have always loved secondhand, a misspent youth of make do and mend, old vinyl record shops, old clothes shops, old books. Our shelves filled with them, advice from yesteryear, recipes from long ago about making your own sausage rolls, savoury breads and even a tear and share Christmas tree for the big day. For that is what Christmas is about, not the latest fashions or the pointless plastic but being with the people we love.
THINGS TO DO IN DECEMBER:
- Plant garlic if you have not done so already. Plant on a dry day, using a large dibber, make a hole two and halftimes deeper than the clove you are planting.
- Check all ties in the garden and store away anything that can be blown about and cause damage.
- Clean your tools. Use wire wool to take away rust, sharpen edges of all cutting tools with a sharpening stone. Oil and put away.
- Don’t get into debt for one day of the year. No one remembers the gifts; they just remember the love given freely.
- Make plans as a community. Share stuff you’ve grown, like parsnips, or have a seed swap. You don’t have to be the only one growing in your area.
Andrew Oldham is a disabled gardener who believes in down-to-earth growing and cooking. He lives high on the Saddleworth hills with his wife, Carol, and son, D. Together they have created a quarter acre microholding called Pig Row which provides a wealth of rich flavours for the kitchen and larder.
This article originally appeared in the December 2023 edition of The Country Smallholder.
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