Christmas

Christmas was always a joyous occasion – calves had been weaned and the hay all made, a sheep had been killed and maybe a rooster too.  The cows had to be milked and the pigs fed, of course.  No matter how busy the men were they always found time to cut and put up the Christmas tree.  Usually it was a branch of either a pine or gum tree and our parents decorated it with fancy paper and presents and ate the cake we put out for Santa Claus, but we only half believed that story because our Father always made us wonderful presents and Santa was not going to get the credit for them.  The pudding, with its quota of three pences and six pences was on to boil before breakfast, but after that many hands were busy digging and scraping potatoes, and picking and shelling peas ready for the feast.  At last everyone was ready for the tree to be stripped of its goodies and amid much joy and thank yous it was done, and everyone was able to enjoy their gifts.

One year 17 of us sat down at the table Daddy had made.  The dinner was dished out and grace had been said, when “what was that noise?”  A wail and sobbing – Rewa had not been given any dinner.  It took a while to realise the trouble and to put matters right but eventually she was pacified and was able to enjoy her meal.  Sometimes in the afternoon we went for a picnic or just enjoyed our gifts but it wasn’t long until it was necessary to milk again.  After tea we gathered round the organ for a happy time of singing. 

Much as we enjoyed our real ponies, we often used the prunings from the apple trees for horses and spent many happy hours galloping around the place.  The rocking horse Daddy made was solid with big rockers, and lasted many years, needing only a new head so Rewa could enjoy it in her turn.  Another year he made us a rickshaw with a chair base and bicycle wheels and shafts and we were the horses, until I turned too sharply on the side of the hill and one wheel buckled.  We had pet rabbits too, and one night their squealing woke us.  Rushing outside we found the horses had broken their cage and hurt them so Daddy built a house for them with a pen for each.  Before the pens were added we used it for a play house and even slept in it.  Christmas Eve, and as the hut was outside the sitting room we ‘spied’ on Santa Claus putting the presents on the tree.  Though we were never given expensive presents, they were always made and given with much love, and were appreciated and treasured. 

 

Aunty Isa, a teacher at Taita School, spent many holidays with us, and as she played the harmonium we all enjoyed a singsong, until I learned to play and we did so more often.  For my 21st birthday I was given a lovely organ and was able to play for the church services as well.  Unfortunately borer found a place they could invade, and though I treated it we could not be sure it was all dead so when we shifted into our new house we asked Norman to sell it in Auckland.  For some reason he never did, and 20 years later when he went to Florida as skipper on the boat ‘Risk and Reward’ he returned it to me. Because of a hole in the bellows I couldn’t play it, but it made a magnificent addition to my lounge.