November - decluttering the festive season
Written for and originally published by Homes & Gardens
The leaves on the hornbeam are the first to turn this year, exposed to the cold easterly wind by the area of chestnut and birch we coppiced last winter. In seeing the trees readying themselves for the winds of winter, I allow a short-lived jolt of panic to run through me, wondering if we’re ready too. Of course, in central heated homes, and with a stack of firewood ready for our wood-burner, we are. Our sophisticated modern lives mean winter is not a period of survival, but a period of festivity and tradition. Perhaps because of this, we’ve somewhat forgotten what we’re celebrating. I adore Christmas, but always feel a mild sense of unease as it approaches. It has become distorted into a high-pressure festival of consumption and waste; its magic is becoming tarnished by its modern footprint.
I recently read about what a medieval Christmas would have been like. Apart from the cold, a short life expectancy and poor hygiene, I think it sounds ace. There is a purity and enchantment around the origins of our traditions, which I think we should explore to de-clutter our modern yuletide.
Although a Christian festival, pagan traditions predominated the pre-Victorian Christmas. These early customs are tied to the season and the landscape more than the birth of Christ, so they are perhaps the roots of a more wholesome winter festival. Stemming from the winter solstice, they celebrate the expectation of longer days and warmer weather. They are at times raucous and boozy, like wassailing, but still centred on sharing and connecting with family and neighbours, and a gratitude for life.
I’m not scrooge enough to take a stance against Christmas trees, but I find more magic in bringing holly and ivy, which I can gather myself with little impact or waste, into my home to decorate. Holly, being the pagan wood of winter, keeps evil spirits away too, which is handy.
The climax of the modern festival is Christmas lunch. In the UK we consume an unfathomable quantity of meat on Christmas day, some ten million turkeys are slaughtered each year, most of which are fed intense diets of grain to fatten them up in intensive systems. Ten million birds wouldn’t be quote so impactful if we abstained from eating meat for advent, something our ancestors did and which I practice. We could eat a potentially less impactful bird too; goose, our traditional Christmas roast, is a hardier animal than the south American turkey, has the added benefit of producing eggs, feathers and fat and will happily feed itself among native British vegetation if given enough space. My mum and stepdad raise geese annually for Christmas with very low inputs, and considerably more flavour and nutrient density than a dry, bland turkey.
Of course, a significant problem with today’s Christmas is wasteful presents. Gifting a meaningful object during winter festival dates back to Roman times, and long may it last, but we all know the guilt of giving or receiving clutter that we know we won’t use. Fortunately, we now have the ‘experience economy’ where one can pay for the fun of a niche activity. I love giving and receiving these, sharing in the dabbling in new skills, from glass blowing, to foraging, or even a British wildlife safari. These low-impact gifts build our experience of life’s richness without leaving a plastic-packed physical footprint.
So as the season approaches, I’ll be returning to the woods to gather some holly and ivy, and researching small businesses to buy experiences from as gifts, during my meat-free advent. But first, I need to order my goose. I hope you’ll join me in stepping back a bit this Christmas and setting up new, old, traditions.
Try medieval Christmas experiences at the Weald and Downland Open Air Museum https://www.wealddown.co.uk/whats-on/, and order your pasture-fed goose from Farmdrop.co.uk or farm2fork.co.uk