Fir cone Gnomes Archives

How is it that some of the simplest activities can be transformed into something special and everyday actions into memorable occasions? I tend to think that it is how we chose to view something, how we seize an opportunity, how we allow it to inspire us and – to coin one of my favourite phrases – how we make much of little.

This is exactly what happened to me yesterday when I travelled the thirty-five miles or so up the coast with my husband to the seaside town of Llandudno. We left home in rain and wind but arrived to brighter skies and sunshine just beginning to peep through the clearing clouds.

First we went to lunch in one of my favourite restaurants, ‘The Habit’ which has a huge selection of tasty dishes and delicious cakes, clean, relaxing, and cosy decor and excellent service. I hardly had time to enjoy my pot of tea or the selection of daily newspapers and books provided before my meal arrived.

You would never know all this fascinating information and deliciousness was behind this unassuming facade.

As we left the ‘Habit Tearooms’, I almost bumped into a sandwich board on the corner, advertising a chocolate museum down the little sideroad – now when had that sprung up without me noticing? My husband went off to his afternoon of voluntary work at the North Wales Wildlife shop on top of the Great Orme (which he does once a fortnight) and I disappeared down John Street to investigate the museum which is housed in old buildings alongside a very modern chocolate producing factory, all of which was started by entrepreneur, Timothy Winstanley, shortly before the pandemic. http://llandudnochocolateexperience.co.uk/ Regardless of its apparently small size, an amazing selection of delicious chocolates are produced here (for sale in Maisie’s Chocolate Shop https://www.maisies.co/ just across Mostyn Street round the corner into Vaughan Street ) as well as creating between one and two tonnes of chocolate flakes each week. Anything to do with the handling and processing of chocolate is a black art and takes a great deal of skill, technique and care.

It was disconcerting to find some of my favourite chocolate bars, tins and boxes among the exhibits!

The museum was an intriguing and delightful experience; a veritable warren of small rooms and corridors full of chocolate-related artefacts, interactive experiences, scenes, models, information boards and recordings. I travelled 5,000 years from the cocoa-rich kingdoms of the Olmec, Maya and Aztecs (including bird song and other sound effects) through to the Crusades and Mediaeval Europe when both chocolate and sugar first found their way into modern western society, the chocolate houses of London, Songhai, the last indigenous empire of North West Africa, the slave trade, piracy, fashions in eating and drinking and monarchs who promoted it. To enhance my experience, on entering the museum I was issued with a plastic beaker containing five gorgeous chocolates, all of which are made on site, and which I was gently instructed to eat at various stages of my visit to help enhance my experience and illustrate the changes in chocolate and what it actually meant.

Floating in a warm fuzzy haze of sweet treats, I finally exited the museum to explore my favourite kitchen shop (where I did a little Christmas shopping for useful but much-needed items which I know will be greatly appreciated) and my favourite craft shop across the road. Here I found lots of little goodies for gifts to fill our Christmas Elf’s sack on the breakfast table on Christmas morning, or pack the model Victorian Snowy House which graces our dining table on New Year’s Day. I bought spools of 3mm wide ribbon in various shades of green for tying packages to go under the Tree, and gorgeous purple satin ribbon to make into bows to adorn the herb pillows I plan on making later in the autumn. I also found synthetic orange berries which will look great clutched in the pipe cleaner fists of my little autumn fir cone gnomes and extra sheets of felt for the making of pointy hats for my fir cone witches – more on those in a week or so as we approach Hallowe’en!

I also found a bunch of pretty gold fabric poinsettias which I might use to decorate our Christmas or New Year crackers this year. On the other hand, I might just adorn myself instead – such simple decorations can pull an outfit together for a seasonal occasion – one in my hair with two or three more as a corsage sewn onto my dress… or perhaps attached to my evening bag – or stuck on my shoes… or…

Entering a different kind of ‘fairy land’ through an archway of beautiful synthetic autumnal leaves!

This autumn I have been enchanted by all the seasonal decorations – the garlands of coloured leaves alone are glorious. Yes, I love authentic decorations straight from garden, but how long does a trail of beautiful brown and red Virginia Creeper leaves last in the warmth of our living room? About two hours before it wilts and curls away to practically nothing. Yes, we should use less plastic, but let’s not throw the metaphorical baby out with the bathwater. There are some truly beautiful items manufactured with which to decorate our homes and celebrate the seasons (not just Christmas) and if stored sensibly they will last many years – I still have a spray of plastic harebells which my mother bought when I was eight years old and sixty years later they haven’t even lost their colour.

The delicate, life-like shading and colouring make these garlands, flowers and sprays works of art in their own right.

In another shop I discovered lovely Christmas cards which depict an snug shed in a snowy winter’s garden but which to me looks remarkably like our Hafod down on our land on the Llyn Peninsular. (Oh, that we might actually get some snow this winter!)

Later, I sat on one of the old wooden benches in the sunshine beneath the trees in Mostyn Street, cooled by the unseasonably warm breeze and made lists: planned and dreamed my coming autumn and winter celebrations into being. Someone sat down on the bench beside me. I took no notice as I squirrelled away with my pen and paper. Finally a voice spoke… it was my husband! The shop had been fairly deserted all afternoon and he had decided to close a little early.

Happily, we drove home together, back along the coast and into the mountains where strong gusts of wind whipped up white horses on the surface of the water all down the Menai Striates, Anglesey was merely a thick black line on the horizon and the skies still wept above cloud enshrouded mountains. Apparently, it had been pouring with rain at home all day… I smiled as I remembered my lovely afternoon in the warm breezes and sunshine of the town… but then that is part of the magic of Llandudno and a very simple but special afternoon!

Building the magic in the library

What a marvellous day I had with the Merry Vegan Midwinter workshop group at Trigonos last Sunday!

The centre is only a couple of miles from my home and they stock both of my books (as well as various other crafty bits and pieces like my ubiquitous fir cone gnomes) It was while I was checking numbers and signing a few copies which had slipped my attention that a lady entered the room. It transpired that she was part of another group staying at Trigonos that day; a yoga teacher who had bought a copy of ‘Merry Midwinter’ the previous year and used it to suggest seasonal topics for her classes – and now she was about to do the same with ‘The Alternative Advent Calendar’. Of all the ways I imagined ‘Merry Midwinter’ might be read and used, I never could have envisaged that it might be used as a focus for yoga!

My group spent the morning in the main meeting room making traditional decorations from natural evergreens and other locally foraged items. We began with the Welsh New Year calennig: an apple – representing the world – with three wooden legs – representing the trinity – topped by a red candle – the light of the world – and decorated with holly leaves and beech masts to symbolise undying life and the fruitfulness of the seasons.

Examples of some of the things that were made – and my books, of course!

Then we moved on to constructing a fir cone gnome, by which time, I felt that everyone had deserved a break and we all enjoyed a mug of hot spiced apple and other fruit juices which had been slowly warming on a hot plate. After that it was down to the really serious business of making door wreaths or kissing balls which were constructed from hoops of living willow and then had lengths of bay and holly tied around them, decorated with bunches of ivy and other red-berried sprigs.

The Main Meeting Room at Trigonos, set up and ready for the morning’s activities – the large piles of cut holly, bay and ivy are behind the camera!

Three hours for such a workshop might sound interminable, but it always flies by. The look of stricken panic on everyone’s faces once I announced that they only had half an hour to complete everything was almost comical, but they thankfully all managed to finish what they had set out to do, producing some beautifully individual decorations full of character and the very essence of wild Midwinter life brought within. Burnham Woods had come to Trigonos earlier that morning, but it was more like Burnham copse that we packed back into the car to take home again!

Meanwhile, Lee, my partner in organising and delivering the workshop, had been beavering away in the kitchen with the rest of the Trigonos catering team to produce a sumptuous three course plant based Christmas feast for our lunch. The dining room was lit by soft wall lights and candles… tea lights, ivy and fir cones and colourful tiny camels decorated the long table around which we all sat… the warmth and scents of hot savoury food were tantalising.

We started with roast squash, coconut and ginger soup which was thick and smooth and steamingly delicious. The main course was parsnip, chestnut and rosemary roast accompanied by creamy Potato Dauphinoise, pan fried Brussels sprouts and kale (the deep green, red and darker colours of which looked like a glorious Christmas table decoration), mini Yorkshire puddings, heavenly Christmas gravy and fresh cranberry and orange sauce. Our dessert was hot chocolate and orange brownie cake topped with mulled berries and cool dollops of vegan fromage frais.

The first part of the afternoon was spent with Lee giving a cookery demonstration of how to make some of the dishes we had just eaten. Perhaps I am beginning to feel my age a little but I was quite relieved that I could quietly retreat to the library where everyone was due to come together for the last activities and the close of the day. Softly I trod around the peaceful room, setting out my candles, standing my little musical Christmas Tree on a small table, replenishing the blazing fire with more logs and placing a plate of vegan flapjack ready to offer to everyone, just in case they still had the odd empty corner left after our amazing lunch The clock ticked quietly, the logs occasionally repositioned themselves in the grate on their bed of glowing ash, the candle flames winked and danced.

An oasis of warmth, calm and cosiness!

Once we were all together once more we began to discuss how one might satisfyingly achieve an authentic Midwinter/Christmas celebration – or, in fact, any celebration – without killing oneself with the effort. (Watch this space for more ideas on this!) I had handouts and a questionnaire for everyone to fill in – not the usual ‘feed back on the event’ kind, but questions as to how people might really wish to celebrate the Midwinter season and how they thought they might achieve it… who they might ask to help them… who they might extend hospitality to this year, and so on.

As dusk began to fall outside the big bay windows and the mountains were swallowed up in the darkness of the late November afternoon, shadows pooled in the corners of the room and fire and candle light became softly prominent. I handed round the alternative carol sheets and we began by tentatively trying out one for ‘Mother’s Night’ on Christmas Eve, sung to the tune of ‘Silent Night’. As we reached the last verse, Lee’s partner, Jane, came in through the door bearing a large tray of steaming mugs of hot chocolate. The flapjack was also now shared around. In much more vigorous voice we next sang my dear friend, Jackie Worcester-Box’s alternative words to ‘In The Bleak Midwinter’.

Time was getting on and I was aware that some people had a long journey home ahead of them, but when I asked if they would prefer another one – or two – carols, or me reading an extract from one of my books, there was a resounding cry of ‘All of it!’ Lee and Jane also now joined us and I spotted my husband sitting quietly by the door. We set off with a roof-raising rendition of ‘God Rest Ye Merry, Druid Folk’ (to the tune of ‘God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen’ and ended with a slightly quieter version of ‘We Three Gifts’ (‘We Three Kings’) which focuses on the elements of the natural world and how blessed we are by clean air, fresh water and good earth.

Everyone calmed down as I began to read about collecting evergreenery when I was a child, and our annual walk to Bessie’s farm to cut holly with red berries on it. But people still seemed loath to leave and there was a great deal of chatter, laughter and hugging before we all finally dispersed.

I feel that if I can help to clarify – or in many cases, rekindle – the love of celebrating Midwinter and Christmas, then it more than recompenses and validates my work… my job is truly done.