Christmas Visitors

 Christmas Visitors 

By Jane Scoggins 

 It was a crisp cold December morning. Dan opened the back door, his hands cupped around a mug of strong hot tea, and surveyed the garden. It had its winter coat on as Meg would have said. He would have said it looked bedraggled. But Meg loved her garden whatever the season, and she was a good gardener. He, not so good, but was happy to help out with the digging under instruction from Meg. She made him laugh. She was always so happy in her garden, planting, growing, weeding. She said that talking to the plants made them grow better. She was always successful whether it be flowers or vegetables, and throughout the year there would be a posy of something in the blue delft jug on the table. Likewise, there weren’t many weeks of the year when there wasn’t at least one lot of fresh vegetables brought into the kitchen, often with bits of soil still hanging from roots or stems.  Coming originally from Wales Megan loved her leeks and grew them every year. So successful she had been some years she had twice won first prize at the local winter harvest festival. It was leeks and brussel sprouts that Dan had on his mind this morning as he closed the back door and finished his mug of tea. He put on his old warm jacket and rubber boots and stepped outside. It wasn't a big garden, longer than it was wide. Apart from a small patio with table and chairs the rest was taken up with beds for plants and produce. At the upper end nearest the house were the flowerbeds and shrubs. At the lower end was the vegetable patch. In Spring and summer it was full of carrots, spring cabbage, lettuce, spring onions, aubergines, a big container of tomatoes, and beans dangling from tall cane frames. In autumn there were onions. Calabrese, more beans, potatoes and sweet corn. In winter the leeks, parsnips and brussel sprouts came into their own and the traditional Christmas meal fare. Dan walked down the flagstone path between the beds until he reached the leeks. They had grown strong and green, another successful year.  The bright green brussel sprouts clustered tightly together on the sturdy stems looking healthy and ready for picking. The parsnips were ready for digging out,  but looked rather smaller than usual. ‘Never mind’ Dan said kindly to them, and smiled to himself at the thought of him consoling parsnips! ‘I'm sorry Meg isn't here to chat to you, she would have known what to say to give you the encouragement you need’ At the sound of his voice and his feet on the path a robin appeared on the bean frame and began to sing.  Dan watched him for a few seconds, enjoying the sound and sight of the cheerful little bird. ‘Waiting for me to dig up a few leeks are you little fella, so you can find a worm or two?’ The robin stopped singing and cocked his head to one side as if he was taking note.

Dan gently dug up a couple of leeks and snapped of a couple of handfuls of brussel sprouts from the thick stems, leaving plenty more for another day. Standing up straight after putting the leeks and sprouts in the wicker garden basket Dan surveyed the vegetable patch and watched as the little robin landed without fear on the soil near his feet, cocking his head again to listen for the sound of worm or beetle activity just below the surface. Dan waited and watched as the robin pecked away and retrieved a plump wriggling worm from the newly turned soil. Looking up Dan saw Megan and heard her laugh softly as she too looked at the confident little robin, so trusting of them he was in touching distance. He reached for her hand and felt the warmth of her fingers. Theirs had been a long and happy marriage and quite often there was no need for words. They had met at a party on Christmas Eve, and their romance had started there and then. 

‘‘Come on, its getting cold standing here,” she said. “Lets go back to the kitchen for a hot cup of tea and a warm scone.’’ Dan watched Meg as she turned to walk back up the path and disappear through the back door. The robin, having feasted on a fat worm took his leave and fluttered back up to the bean frame, where he proceeded to sing heartily, in thanksgiving for his meal.

‘You are welcome Mr Robin, Happy Christmas to you’ called Dan as he walked back up the path.

The kitchen was empty, with a smell of warm scones in the air, and the sound of Meg's lilting welsh voice came from upstairs. She was from the valleys where everyone sang she had told him soon after they had met.

‘Meg! Dan called, smiling. But there was no answer of course. Megan had passed away nearly six months ago but Dan felt her presence all the time. Today was Christmas Eve and Dan was filled with memories of his girl from Merthyr Tydfil.

 

Copyright Jane Scoggins