THE SUSTAINABLE LIFE Sebastian Cox looks ahead to Christmastime
Our columnist Sebastian Cox looks ahead to festivities and sets some holly and ivy-filled intentions
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 allows a short-lived fit 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 – yes, I know this feels early but trust me it’s coming and the more we plan for it the better decisions we can make. For its magic is now a bit tarnished by its modern footprint and how much waste it can cause.
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 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 but still centred on sharing and connecting with family and neighbours and a gratitude for life.
So as we begin to think about celebrating over the next couple of months, I thought it useful to set some intentions. 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 10 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 quite 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.
Of course, a significant problem with today’s Christmas is wasteful presents. Gifting a meaningful object 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 join me in stepping back a bit in the run-up to Christmas and setting up some new, old traditions.