The only kind of Christmas shopping I do is at organic farmers’ markets. I don’t go near shopping malls until January.
Some years ago I stopped buying gifts or ‘things’ for Christmas. Friends looked at me as if I was a meanie little Scrooge at first, but I had them around for drinks and nuts, and baked ham or roast leg of lamb Greek-style, so they understood my not buying gifts was for reasons other than miserliness.
Una has a wooden hand-carved crib and manger scene she puts up and we have a little tinselly Christmas tree, and a silver garland/wreath made from indignous leaves hanging at the front door.
She gives her family chocolates and jams and knitted socks. I just give hugs and discourage people from giving me anything. I listen to Advent hymns on my erratic CD player and send a corned tongue and home-baked rusks to the old age home up the road. We have a hospitable and thoughtful Christmas, but it is not about things, or overeating or getting stressed about entertaining. So simple, I don’t know why I didn’t do this in my 20s. I used to have fights in shopping malls and battle for parking and spend money on ridiculous presents and then of course I would drink too much and ruin my efforts and wake with that toxicity-driven panic on Boxing Day or New Year’s Day. Over-indulgence and waste and despondency go together for me.
Now I don’t have problem drinkers in my house. If a red-nosed and over-jolly neighbour pops in, I make tea and offer disprin for the next morning. Party-pooper.
So off we went to the new farmers’ market in Elgin to stock up for Christmas — ferocious heat and clear blue skies, the mountains almst velvety in the heat haze. I chose my spring onions and bottled olives and a small locally cured gammon, some Swiss chard and small nutty-flavoured potatoes. We sampled schwarmas and falafel. There were oyster mushrooms and shiitake, fresh and delicate. I couldn’t get basil seedlings but got another small sage, some blood leaf for salads and a small Capiscum named ‘Explosive’ with lime-yellow chilies like tiny bananas. And organic garlic, pink and white.
Then we had coffee and came back home, very pleased with our purchases. By the time we left the market both the visitors and Swiss chard still on sale were wilting as temperatures rose to melting point. Not a breath of wind. We drove back through the furnace of the countryside, the old Cape I recall from my first years here. The landscape of the Boland and Overberg looks so lusciously green with oak trees and vineyards and the deep blue skies, but it is unbearably hot. Cyclists and pedestrians keel over with heat-stroke or dehydration.
It was however perfect weather for bathing the puppies, so we did that, letting they shake themselves dry on the grass in the sun, and they are now fluffy and sweet-smellng, looking quite saleable to the highest bidder. Just joking.
Posted by louisey 