How to Keep a Good Christmas

For starters: have a good work-out.  We recommend this be done Green-Gym style: working hard, outdoors, in the lovely countryside.  Ideally, as today, in perfect weather conditions:

Hello wintertime!

Then: hold your workforce Christmas lunch in late January, when most of the rest of the country has forgotten all about Xmas.  – Though, as it happens, this year most of the country had remembered the feast again, when prompted by the death of a well-known actor to recall one of his roles, that of Sheriff of Nottingham in Robin Hood, prince of thieves: 

Cancel the kitchen scraps for lepers and orphans.  No more merciful beheadings.  And call off Christmas.  (Alan Rickman, 1946-2016)

For further accuracy, it should be stated that the weather was “perfect” for those volunteers working in the sunshine.  Those who were working in the shade – some of them standing in icy water – observed that by tea-break even toes clad in two layers of sock beneath tough wellies, had gone numb.

The task was to make sure that there was a little less shade on site.  We were continuing the work of another group of countryside volunteers, to cut back willow growth on the portion of land which had come to that point in the 5-year cycle of management …

preferably without leaving “death spikes”, as the previous group had done:

Also without unduly disturbing hibernating wildlife.  Here a vole:

Or possibly a field mouse.  We did not investigate more closely to make a positive identification, as the creature was clearly feeling very cold and unsettled, after being rudely woken up by our working close by.  We decided the best thing to do was to tiptoe away, and go for a tea-break, to give the animal a chance to settle down in a new nest.

By session end, there was much more open space for vegetation other than willow to flourish:

All the coppiced stools had been neatly trimmed to a low level.  And a volunteer who had not done this particular job before, was saying, “I’ve decided I like coppicing.”  To which the answer, from a seasoned Green-Gymmer was: “You’ll be eyeing up all the neighbours’ shrubs now.”

What to look out for in a ‘winter’ churchyard

Wasn’t it lovely this morning?  Here’s a snap on the way to the session – Tower of St Leonard’s in the background: 

Where the birds are, in the foreground, is where we are meant to be next week!  In the meantime, the water-meadows beside the Thames are precisely as water-meadows are supposed to be in winter.

Today’s session was to tidy up the churchyard of this oldest church in Wallingford.

The churchyard looked in pretty good nick after our previous visit:

Apart from the 12-foot brambles, some of which were growing in the tranquil stream, into which this volunteer waded:

And apart from ivy, for which one volunteer found a new technique of removal:

Then of course we had to bag up the debris …

all the while taking care not to trample the snowdrops and other bulbs peeking through:

Other signs of spring came with this tree (pussy willow?) …

and this dainty flower, prunus subhirtella autumnalis:

The tea wallah brought us delicious filo pastry tart with spinach ricotta and sun-dried tomatoes, followed of course by cake upon cake.

After tea, we excavated the ivy, and found a super aluminium ladder:

Your woodland friends

Did we do our first tree-planting of the season today?  No!

That had been the tentative plan, but since stocks on site consisted only of hawthorn, the site warden thought better of it: better to wait until another delivery, so that mixed planting can be done – by some other group.  Instead, we were put to doing something which, from our point of view, is even better: cutting trees down.  To be more precise: coppicing old trees to make way for new growth (in woodland-management speak, “to improve the stand structure”).

One-twelfth of the arboreal crown atop Round Hill, Wittenham, is cut back each year.  The resulting brash is used to construct a temporary dead-hedge fence, to protect the re-growth from being munched by animals which regard fresh shoots as a particular delicacy.  While most of us were engaged on starting a new length of the section marked off for attention this year, two Green-Gymmers volunteered to finish off the work done by another community group.  They completed the coppicing, and built up the rest of the defensive hedge:

Meanwhile, some of us in the main Green-Gym force were discovering that there was more to the job than just lopping and sawing off branches, dragging and stacking the cut wood, and stepping back to admire one’s handiwork.  The stumps had to be reduced, preferably to ankle height.   

Here my near-neighbour on the job had just finished taking down one seriously scrubby old tree:

C: That’s a mighty task you’ve completed there.

Volunteer: But now comes the hard bit.

C: Well, you never know.  The site warden might start talking about a chainsaw.

Volunteer: No, it’s all got to be done by Green-Gym muscle power!

Site warden: You can console yourself with the thought that it’s the softest wood you’ll ever have to cut.

Volunteer: Why?  What kind of wood is it?
Site warden: Lime – a favourite of wood-carvers.

C: And the task will feel much easier after tea-break.

It was not immediately obvious where to begin:

Nothing daunted, though, the volunteer set to:

“At least it’s not mahogany!”

And yes: the tea interval did intervene to give the man a rest; and refreshments, in honour of the eve of the Feast of the Epiphany, had a high-GI rating.

This was the point at which we got to eat one of ‘our woodland friends’ – in the form of ‘Reggie the Robin’:

“It’s a sort of Christmas Easter-Egg”

The chocolate red robin was one of the many retail lines which had been sold off on terms extremely advantageous to the shopper, because from the stores’ PoV, ‘Xmas’ ends when they shut up shop at close of play on 24 December.  “Meaning,” as another Green-Gymmer observed, “you can pick up bargains for the rest of the Christmas period, and buy your Easter eggs at the same time!”

As the weather cleared, we enjoyed the sound not of a robin, but skylarks.  And took in some views, the majesty of which the camera lens cannot capture, but I tried my best anyway:

Other marvels were on a smaller scale.  Rocks, for instance, which had been brought from further north and deposited on site (? some 10,000 years ago, which in geological time is but yesterday):

“Why is there a pebble on the top of a hill, which you’d normally expect to find in the bed of a river?”

Also these examples of wild-food which is edible, but for which one would hardly want to forage unless pretty desperate (on account of the rubbery texture):

Jelly Ear Fungus

This was one session when we did not expect to finish off the task.  There is plenty more to be done by another group, another time!  We hope we left the work-site in a neat, tidy state for the next team. 

Best wishes for 2016 to all our readers!