When the euphoria and momentum of tree-decorating wears off and the Christmas boxes have long been disembowelled and abandoned, it’s time to surreptitiously undo a few creative decisions, hiding baubles around the back. These are either homemade or so ancient that they really belong to Halloween, like the dusty real-feather (maybe real-bird) robin from my Grandma, with its scratchy claws and unstable eyes.
Handcrafted décor – twig, cinnamon stick, felt or fruit-based – rarely looks as good as those hipster Instagrammers would have us believe. Nevertheless, these wall-facing trinkets were made by my children so they have a place forever.
But there are some Christmas creations that will always guarantee style to pass muster with dreadful Christmas décor snobs like me. While crafts can vary greatly, from village-fête-knit to pricey sales on Etsy, handiwork using evergreens never fails. Real nature brought indoors, in fact, improves every surface. As an odd child, dreaming through the Habitat catalogue and interiors magazines, I thought every single image – from a sideboard to a bathroom suite – was lifted with the addition of foliage.
On Countryfile Christmas specials, I’ve made boughs in Bath, garlands in Glaisdale and wreaths in Warwick, without any skill whatsoever. Order and neat edges are not how nature does things; our ancestral mind is tuned into observing nature as beautiful, so no matter how off the shape, it will look good.
Bringing evergreen into homes during the dark months follows centuries of tradition that invites optimism for a new spring, a new day. It’s a chance to marvel, too, at evergreen’s adaptations to the challenges of a winter with frozen water –their leaf shape, waxy cuticle surface and sunken stomata all help to reduce water loss. The gain is not having to rebuild their entire photosynthetic structures every spring, trading against less efficient leaves during the boom seasons.
The origins of tradition
The roots for the evergreen look go back way before Queen Victoria. In ancient Egypt, the sun god Ra was worshipped with green palm leaves brought indoors after the winter solstice in anticipation of lighter days. Romans made dedications to the god Saturn around the solstice, with evergreen branches to symbolise hope for a sunny, bountiful year. And the winter festival of Yule, celebrated in Northern Europe, inspired modern traditions, such as carolling, yule logs and, once again, evergreens brought indoors.
It certainly helped change the opinions of the Pagan-sceptics when Prince Albert put up a Christmas tree at Windsor Castle in 1848; if it was acceptable for the Queen, then decorating a Christmas tree indoors was something people could more easily get along with. What began with candles, edible decorations and homemade ornaments soon became a market for the age of consumerism and a delight for décor upstarts like me.
Christmas crafts
Find out how to create a natural Christmas table centrepiece for the festive season, making the most of all that nature has to offer in winter.
After the First World War and the Great Depression, sparkle was what was called for. Publicly, trees began to become a feature of Christmas in the Rockefeller Centre in New York and later in Trafalgar Square. Through the decades, the opulence grew and in colours never seen in nature: my grandparents unboxed a hot-pink tinsel tree dressed with Christopher-Radko-style ornaments. Eventually, decadent homes took on not just one, but a number of trees – one for the children to concoct (with a red glitter popcorn machine) and one for style (done by me).
Trends have a way of taking a full turn. Now it seems, after the excess of the 1990s and 2010s, contemporary Christmas trees have returned to a simpler time, embracing Scandi-hygge and a handcrafted sensibility. As you wish. I’ll see you sparkling on the other side.
