I didn't live in Adelaide as a child, so for us, it was about waking up early and excited about watching the Pageant on television. Two of the floats were of horses - Nipper and Nimble. A little girl did (and still does) rides on those floats dressed in a fairy princess costume. I think just about every little girl in SA wanted to ride Nipper or Nimble. I certainly did! Because I grew up in rural South Australia, every Christmas Day, we would have a two hour drive to my grandmother's in Adelaide. My Gran was a wonderful cook and always had the most sumptuous Christmas lunch for us. We would usually arrive at her house around 11am - the trip seemed to take forever. When we got there, we were not allowed to open our gifts until after lunch. As a kid, this was an excruciating wait!! We'd have a lunch of turkey, ham, chicken, and salads, followed by the best pavlova ever! We also had pudding and had to be careful not to swallow the small silver trinkets cooked into pudding. We had bon bons which had jokes, small toys and paper hats inside of them. After lunch and tidying, it was present time! It was the job of my sisters and I to hand out the gifts - I loved it. Then we had to sit around the room and each of us would take turns opening one gift at a time. As a kid, I used to find this torturous, but looking back now, I loved our Christmas traditions with my grandmother. My dad would always go have a nap after this. Later in the evening, we'd have my Gran's home made sausage rolls, then strawberries and icecream, then we'd pack up some left overs and head for home, full of wonderful food and very, very tired, but knowing the next year it would be just the same and just as special.
Once again we are decking the halls and writing cards. It's Christmas time again. Where does a year go so fast. Sometimes I think of Christmas years ago on the farm when I was a kid. I am sure noone could cook like my mum. There was no dinner like the one mum could make, she could whip up a tasty meal before you could blink an eye. All our food was grown on the farm, turnips, potatoes, carrots were kept in a root celler, it was underground walled up with rocks and covered with sods and sawdust. It could keep the vegetables all winter. Snow came early and it came deep and the wind blew its icy breath through our tattered and worn coats making our faces turn rosy red as we walked the miles to school. We didn't have a school bus to ride to school. Our teacher did not have a college education. They walked to the school from wherever they happened to be living. They swept the floors, washed the chalkboards and kept the fire burning to heat the school for the day. They had kids in the class from grade 1 to whatever grade someone was going to. They knew how to wield a strap to keep us in line as well. With Christmas just around the corner we made chains and bells with paper and homemade glue found a good tree and thought we had the most beautiful tree in the world. Then came the practice for the Christmas play. That was a big event back then. Everyone looked forward to it even the moms and dads. The moms worrying that their child might forget the lines that were to be said. Trim the school, trim the tree, put up the wire to hold the bed sheets they used for curtains. Then the big night. There were no snow plows then. The snow just piled up and froze, the horses could walk over it. Dad would hitch up old Nelly (horse) and off we would go to the school all snuggled down in the hay to do our concert. Sometimes it would be in the church as there was a beautiful old pump organ there. As Nelly settled in a steady trot, the bells gently chiming in the rhythmical beat jingle bells jingle bells all the way. As the whoa whoa rang out the horses slowed children jumping out to rush to the warm school and get in place for their parts in the play. The visit from Santa and thr paper bag with the treats. We drew names and eagerly waited to see what we got under the tree. Once home we loved the odor of the barn. The smell of strong and living things. The mushy odor of the corn, the tangy smell of oats, hay and straw, the manure steaming, the sharp odor of leather harness's. The barn rich and warm from the body heat of the animals. Marching off into the house with its big kitchen range and shiny, with pots bubbling on top and the smell of bread cooking in the oven, it had a large tank on the side to heat water. There were homemade fudge, apples, oranges. Homemade dolls and knitted socks and mittens. In this day of frozen turkeys, pies, and instant everything. There areno dinners like the good old homemade ones made from scratch. Everything came straight from the farm. Mom made the pickles, jam, the mincemat, the cakes and pies. We would smell the most delicious aroma the human nose was ever blessed with. One year the oldest sister and the lot of us trudged through the deep snow to get the perfect tree, none was good enough so we thought so she decided the tops of the large trees would be the best so one after another we chopped down tree after tree. I can't remember what the final one looked like but I remember the wrath of Dad when he went to the woods in the spring and seen all the downed trees. After our Christmas dinner Dad headed out to the barn with the boys to do the chores while us girls would look half-heartedly at the stack of dishes that had to be done. We didn;t have electricity, no plumbing. Water was carried from the well and heated on the stove. Hot water was heated on the tank on the side of the stove. Christmas day finally over we would go out in the crusty snow and sloping fields to try out our new sleds. Those moonlight nights and glittering snow with the frost snapping the trees I shall never forget. I can close my eyes and imagine. I can hear the sleigh bells jingle on old Nellies harnesses as she trots down the road pulling the sleigh. Now as I gaze out at the brightly lit stars I decide to share some of my memories. I do wish you a Merry Christmas and the very best for the New Year.
Well I have a new tradition that has started in my family in the last 4 years (since my son was born) It has always been a tradition in my husbands family ever since he was a kid. On Christmas eve there is a mysterious knock on the door and the kids are to run to answer it as quickly as they can. A present for each of them is left early by Santa and it usually contains new pajamas for them to wear to bed that night. This tradition came from England when my husbands family moved here when his mother was a little girl. My son loves it and trys to catch Santa every year! Love the site guys, keep it up!
