Christmas, for various reasons has not been at the forefront of our lives this year. In fact, if you came into the house you would wonder if it was ‘getting to look like Christmas’ at all. Instead of dusting down those old treasured decorations, unwinding twisted lengths of lights, bringing out the baubles, and welcoming those faithful fairies, we have gone for what one might call the natural and simple look, perhaps I should say, sustainable.

‘All is calm, all is bright’ as vases are filled with the tall bare twigs of Wintersweet, Chimonanthus praecox, and the little pale yellow flowers have filled the house with a wonderful fragrance. It is indeed, an absolute ‘comfort and joy’.

Outside it grows as a shrub, enjoying the warmth of a wall. Situated not far from the back door, you can catch the sweet smell of its divine scent, especially in ‘a bleak mid-winter’ when by chance the sun happens to shine (seemingly a rare occurrence in this neck of the woods).

Two years ago, it was becoming rather ungainly and so, long after it had flowered, I hacked it back. The following year it sulked and did not have its usual profusion of flowers and I was consumed with mighty dread that I may have ruined it for ever. Fear not; this year it has come back better than ever.

O come, O come, for those who are interested, this most highly fragrant lady was introduced from China in around 1766. A quick translation of Chimonanthus reveals it is all in the name; cheimon means winter, anthos is flower and praecox is the latin for ‘very early’ and so there we have it: a very early winter-flowering shrub. I have to agree with Vita Sackville-West who, writing her column in the1960’s and making it hyphenated said that ‘Winter-sweet should have a place of honour among plants that will flower out of doors during the winter months’. Yet nowadays despite the profusion of garden books, very few writers draw our attention to its magnificence and seldom do we see it growing in winter gardens.

Vita goes on to warn her readers that when purchasing a young plant you may have to wait five to six years until it flowers, but that it is well worth the wait. I wholeheartedly agree.

It so happens that nearby to my specimen and also in flower now, is another little star, the appropriately named snowdrop ‘Three Ships”. Plant both so you can enjoy one sailing in before the other begins to flower. Surely better than any Christmas bauble?

So here’s looking forward to visiting gardens next year

Happy Christmas