A melancholic task

In “The Wind in the Willows” one entertaining scene is when early in the book, Mole and Ratty enjoy a picnic on the riverbank.  They discuss what fun it is to unpack the picnic basket and remove all the delicacies for consumption, and how much less fun it is repacking the basket with the uneaten remnants and dirty dishes.  Likewise with Christmas decorations.

It is a lovely job unpacking all the old friends and making the rooms look gay and bright with all the delights of Christmas festivities ahead.  Less fun, and in fact rather sad, packing it all away.  I felt particularly bad about having to chop up the eight foot tree we bought – he was such a magnificent plant and I feel sorry to have had him chopped down in his prime, kept in captivity indoors for two weeks and then chucked in the tip.  So perhaps I will not have a real tree next year.

We filled two huge green sacks with his branches and we’ll take them to the “recycling centre” tomorrow.  The trunk is huge and I think I am going to keep it, lean it against the garden wall and grow a clematis up it.  Or try – I have had a go at creepers in Argyll with no great success, but Fife seems a better prospect with better weather and less slugs.

There was quite a mess left behind, but we had thoughtfully put a rug underneath so it didn’t damage the new carpet.

Then we packed all the baubles up – carefully enough I hope.  The soft toy ones like the little mice and polar bears I am too soft hearted to put into the garage, so they live on a shelf in my office until next year.

I also disposed of the spare Christmas cake to a good home today which is a corporal work of mercy (sort of the opposite of “feeding the hungry”) to preserve J’s waistline from it.  So that is over for a year.

And now to the projects list for 2026, starting with the garden.