Page 26 of Snowflakes at the Little Christmas Tree Farm
The tree I’m standing next to must be roughly seven foot high because I have to look up to see the tip. ‘How old are these?’
‘This one is six years,’ he says without needing to read the label that’s tied around a low branch. ‘But they vary. Each row was planted at a different time. The oldest ones are eight and the youngest ones are toddlers at three.’
‘Do they scream a lot and refuse to eat their vegetables?’
This time he does laugh, a warm rumbling sound that makes me grin as he points out the younger trees, each row shorter than the one before. It looks organised and professional. The moss is green and plush and the trees themselves have an unusual eye-catching colour, the traditional dark green but with an underside of a lighter greyish-blue that makes you want to stop for a closer look, and it’s all about a million miles from the hotchpotch of dead trees I saw when I drove in. In comparison, the Nordmann fir fields look like an overgrown forest, and it makes me realise how much work I’ve got to do to get the rest of the fields looking anything like this, and I haven’t even seen the balsams and spruces yet.
‘There’s something else,’ Noel says in a rush. ‘When they reach about six feet, they’re mature enough to start producing cones, so I’ve been collecting the seeds and growing them. It sounds like stealing but I was only trying to protect them and make sure the species would live on, no matter what. I have a polytunnel full of seedlings that are rightfully yours.’
‘What’s a polytunnel?’
‘You haven’t … You don’tknowwhat a polytunnel is?’ Him being able to make fun of my horticultural knowledge eases the weird atmosphere in the air between us. ‘It’s a bit like a greenhouse but much bigger and covered by polythene rather than glass. It’s for frost protection, cover and warmth for starting vegetables off early. Pumpkins need a long growing season, so I start hundreds of seeds early in the year, so they’re well-established plants by the time the risk of frost has passed and I can plant them outside. Christmas trees are much hardier, but the little seedlings need a bit of protection in the first couple of years.’
I try not to think about how complicated it all sounds. God knows how he remembers all this stuff.
Gizmo runs back up to us, woofs and dodges around our legs, then runs off again. I can’t help grinning at his happy tail wagging as I follow him to get a better look at the rows of trees. There must be at least five hundred of them spread throughout the field, and I can’t believe how amazing it looks.
‘At least with the saplings I’ve got, you’ll have enough stock to replant in the spring without interrupting the Peppermint Branches ancestral line.’
His words make me feel more excited than it’s reasonable to be over a tree, but maybe it says something about my life lately that tree heritage is currently the best thing in it.
When Noel’s finally captured Gizmo, we leave the Peppermint firs and I can’t help leaning on the gate as I close it and looking at them for a moment longer. They really are beautiful, like sentries in their rows, making me feel optimistic and bright again.
‘Thanks for taking care of them,’ I say as we walk further down the track and cross a little stone bridge across a gently flowing stream. ‘I feel guilty for selling them when they’re not mine to sell. You’re the one who’s raised them. I shouldn’t be earning a profit from something that had nothing to do with me.’
‘You’re missing the point of a Christmas tree farm. They were raised for the farm. Whatever money you earn from them will go back into the farm – believe me, you have alotof work to do here, and every bit of your income will go towards that for the next infinite amount of years. The only reason I took care of them is because those particular trees are special, but they were never mine to begin with. They’re yours now, everything on this land is yours, and every bit of money you make from it will be returned to make it better. Farming is an endless circle. It takes a lot of years to make a disposable income – Evergreene was doing well for himself, but those missing years have been a huge setback. You’ve lost a lot of his crop, and a lot of what’s left might be unsalvageable, and you only have a few weeks to learn everything you can about Christmas trees and how to shear them, cut them, and make people buy them.’
‘Is that as impossible as it sounds?’
He shrugs. ‘Depends how dedicated you are and how much you want this. If it’s too difficult, are you going to hop back in your car and leave in January?’
We’ve stopped at the edge of the bridge and there’s a little pebble beach leading down to the shore of the river and Gizmo is pulling to go onto it. Noel bends down to unhook his lead and I can’t help watching as his big hands give the tiny dog a scruffle before letting him go, his bright eyes watching him potter around in the stones. This isn’t the first time he’s mentioned leaving when things are difficult. It’s obviously what he expects. Instead of answering, I look around. The mixed scent of all the different species of Christmas trees is heavy in the air, the little stream is burbling away beside us, a trickle of water that looks like something that should be in a country park and it’s unimaginable that this is literally my garden. For the first time since my parents died, I feel like I could live again.
I look back at Noel. ‘There’s something about these trees that makes life seem better. It’s unreal that I own this place.Youmake it sound so special. I was terrified last night, I thought it was a huge mistake, but talking to you and now walking around it … how could this ever be a mistake? I’m not going to run away because somewhere as special as this is worth any amount of work I have to put in.’
When I pluck up the courage to look at his face, his smile is obscenely wide in a way it hasn’t been before. There’s nothing tight or sarcastic about it. He seems totally uninhibited, and the silver ball in his lip catches the light every time he shifts, making me forget what I was thinking about in the first place.
Suddenly there’s a woof from the beach below us and we both look down to see the plop of a frightened fish as it flops back into the stream, and Gizmo on a rock in the middle of the water, having jumped there from the shore.
‘Giz, no!’ Noel shouts and flies off down the shallow slope after him. ‘Don’t you dare chase that poor little fishy, it’s October, you’ll freeze if you fall in.’ He stops short at the edge of the water and leans over, trying to reach the dog, but the rock is far enough out that he can’t get there.
The fish makes the mistake of jumping again and Gizmo yaps and crouches down on his haunches and wiggles his back end, readying himself for launch.
I see Noel resign himself as he wades into the river and lets out a yell as cold water seeps into his work boots. He scoops the dog up easily with one huge hand. ‘Oh, no, you don’t, matey. Not at this time of year. Leave the poor salmon be.’
Gizmo grumbles his disapproval.
‘How did you manage that jump?’ Noel grumbles back at him. ‘Leah’s pet squirrel must’ve been giving you athletics training.’
I can’t help giggling as Gizmo tries to squirm over Noel’s shoulder to get back to the fish.
‘Yeah, yeah, I know it’s my own fault for letting you off your lead near a river at salmon migration time. But don’t worry about it, it’s not like I’ll have frostbite or gangrene in my toes by the time we get back or anything.’
Gizmo is still grumbling about it.
I’m laughing so hard at the conversation between them that I have to sit down on one of the large, flat stones behind me. ‘Do you think he’s going to multiply if he gets wet?’
‘Like the mogwai inGremlins?’ He trudges up the bank, leaving a wet trail through the pebbles behind him. ‘I wouldn’t mind that. I love him so much, I’d happily have ten of him.’ He stops to look up and give me a wide smile. ‘And I’m glad you find my misery so funny.’
