Why we have always brought the winter landscape home at Christmas

Long before Christmas decorations arrived in boxes, wrapped in tissue paper and stored away for another year, we seasonally decorated our homes with what was growing outside.

Branches were cut, greenery gathered and brought across the threshold. Holly, ivy, bay and other evergreens brought colour indoors during the darkest months, when much of the landscape beyond the window had become bare.

It is a tradition stretching back centuries, yet there is something about it that still feels remarkably familiar.

Perhaps because decorating with nature is never quite the same twice. A branch bends differently. Berries are abundant one year and scarce the next. Leaves curl, seed heads dry and colours gradually fade. And along with colour and texture comes something we sometimes overlook: fragrance.

Bring the outside in and we bring its scent with us too.

Decking the Halls

The association between greenery and midwinter is much older than the Christmas interiors we recognise today.

By the late Middle Ages, holly, ivy and bay were being used to decorate churches and homes in winter. Their ability to remain green when much of the natural world appeared dormant gave evergreens particular significance, later becoming associated with continuity and eternal life.

Over the centuries, the tradition became more elaborate. Greenery was joined by fruit, ribbons and paper decorations. Georgian kissing boughs were hung indoors, while the Victorians embraced garlands, wreaths and, eventually, the Christmas tree.

Yet beneath all the changing fashions was a beautifully simple idea: take something growing outside and bring it home.

Living in Cumbria, that still feels very natural.

As the year moves towards winter, the landscape changes and I find myself noticing different things. The abundance of summer has disappeared, trees become skeletal and the lanes are wet again. Against the quieter browns and greys, small pockets of colour and  texture suddenly stand out.

Dried honesty comes indoors quite early, its papery seed heads becoming translucent as they seem to shimmer like little silver pennies in a vase. If I catch the beech tree at just the right moment and cut one or two small branches, its leaves retain their copper and bronze colours and still seem to glisten in the low light.

After rain, the moss along our Cumbrian lanes becomes an extraordinary vivid green, covering old stone walls and banks in thick, damp cushions. Along the rambling walls that are the boundary to the garden, I gather it and use a little around the bases of baskets and vases.

Pine cones that had quietly dropped to the ground as the seasons changed were collected earlier in the year while on a summer walk. These classic symbols of Christmas were carefully stored away and now retrieved from our shed, filling a wooden bowl as a centrepiece for the table. This year’s hedgerows seem particularly generous with berries following the long summer. The various rose hips and crab apples are wonderfully bright and eye-catching, with glossy points of scarlet and orange, and appear jewel-like amongst the increasingly muted colours that gently fade around them.

None of these things needs very much arranging. That’s part of their appeal.

The Fragrance of Greenery

There is another reason for bringing natural materials indoors. They smell wonderfully fresh.

Rosemary from the garden is one of my favourites. It dries quite quickly in the warmth of the house, but brush against it or rub a few leaves between your fingers and that herbal, aromatic fragrance returns.

Evergreen branches have their own resinous, uplifting odour. Peel an orange and aromatic oils are released into the air. Add spices, dried fruit and perhaps a wood fire burning in the grate, and the atmosphere of the house really begins to change.

It makes me wonder whether, before we deliberately fragranced our homes, we fragranced them simply by decorating them.

For generations, Christmas greenery will have brought the scent of the outside world indoors: leaves and herbs, fruit and wood, resinous branches and fresh foliage.

Perhaps that’s partly why scent and Christmas remain so closely connected.

The materials used in perfumery often belong to this same natural vocabulary – woods, resins, herbs, citrus and spice. We might encounter them today in a perfume or candle, but the associations they evoke can feel much older and more instinctive.

That connection with natural materials is something we still recognise today, whether we are choosing a British fragrance, looking for a patchouli fragrance with earthy depth, or simply filling a room with the scent of fresh greenery.

Gathered, not Perfected

There can be a temptation at Christmas to make everything perfect.

But we should perhaps take a leaf out of nature’s own notebook, because as beautiful as Nature is, it isn’t perfect, and that’s its subtle appeal.

The beech leaves don’t match. One side of a branch is fuller than the other. Honesty twists as it dries. Rosemary becomes brittle and berries eventually wrinkle.

I think that’s precisely what makes natural decoration so beautiful, and its transience is something to be treasured.

A single branch can be enough in a tall vase. Rosemary can be tucked amongst greenery. Moss can soften the base of a basket. Rose hips add colour without ribbons or baubles.

It isn’t about recreating a florist’s arrangement. It’s about noticing what is already around us.

Gathering should, of course, be thoughtful. Our own gardens are often the best place to begin – using prunings, saving seed heads or collecting wind-fallen cones. Beyond our own land, we need permission to gather, and some wild plants are legally protected, so sometimes the most responsible thing is simply to leave something where it grows.

Across the Threshold

Our homes have changed enormously since winter greenery was first carried inside.

Today, decorations are brought down from lofts, lights twinkle on Christmas trees and every family develops its own way of making home feel ready for Christmas.

Yet amongst all of that, there is still something rather special about the simplest things.

Honesty shimmering in a vase. Copper beech leaves catching the light. Rosemary releasing its fragrance as you brush past. Moss cushioning a basket. Pine cones brought back from the barn and bright rose hips gathered from the garden.

Things that aren’t quite straight, matching or permanent.

Perhaps that’s why we have continued this tradition for so long. We aren’t simply decorating our houses. We are carrying a little of the season across the threshold – its colour, texture and fragrance – and making it part of home for Christmas.