Twenty-Four Evenings in Hollowpine

Day 1

The first blank page

The notebook had been underneath the fruit bowl for most of November. When it was finally pulled free, a pale circle marked the cover. There was nothing written inside.

In the kitchen in Hollowpine, someone turned to the first page and wrote: Christmas Eve. Two places. Enough time to sit down.

That seemed a reasonable beginning.

I would like this calendar to feel a little like that notebook. A place for a few things you want to keep, with room around them. You do not have to make everything, finish every page or arrive here at the same time each day.

Continue: Christmas Eve is still magical when you're grown up

Back to the contents

Day 2

A shelf made ready

The shelf above the kitchen table had collected a small pile of things that belonged somewhere else. A folded receipt. A spoon. The notebook, closed around a pencil so its place would not be lost.

In Hollowpine, someone moved them one at a time. The receipt went into a drawer. The spoon returned to the kitchen. The notebook stayed on the table, where it could be opened without moving anything first.

Two cups fitted on the shelf. There was room between them.

A whole house can be too much to begin with. One clear place is easier to see, and easier to use. It gives the evening somewhere to land without asking the rest of the room to be finished.

Nothing else was rearranged. The chair kept its folded cloth. The windowsill kept its book.

Continue: How to make your home feel like Christmas

Back to the contents

Day 3

The short way home

The path beyond the square continued towards the fields, but neither person felt like going that far. They turned beside the last garden and took the short way home.

Hollowpine was still light enough to notice the bare branches above the roofs. A kitchen window had begun to glow. Somewhere, a door closed with the ordinary sound of someone arriving back.

On the table, the notebook was open to a list that could wait a little longer. Nothing had changed while they were outside. That was rather the point.

A walk does not need to become an outing. You do not have to find a beautiful route or make the distance worth mentioning. There can be a little pleasure in leaving the room, then returning to it before you are tired.

Continue: Christmas bucket list for adults

Back to the contents

Day 4

A ribbon kept

The ribbon was underneath the paper in a shallow box. It had a crease where someone had folded it last winter, and a small loose thread at one end.

In the Hollowpine kitchen, it was laid across the table beside the notebook. A palm smoothed the crease. The loose thread was trimmed. There was no reason to put anything on the shopping list.

The box held enough paper for one parcel, perhaps two. That was useful to know before deciding how the presents should look.

It is easy to begin wrapping with a picture of something you do not have. A certain ribbon. A colour that appears everywhere. Paper that looks better on a screen than the paper already in the cupboard.

Start with what is there. A crease can soften. A plain sheet can look deliberate once its corners are folded.

Continue: The Christmas gifts I'd actually give

Back to the contents

Day 5

The sound from the next room

A tune reached the kitchen before the person who had put it on. It was familiar enough that nobody needed to ask what was playing.

The kettle began its small rumble. In Hollowpine, the notebook stayed open beside two cups while someone turned the volume down a little. The room did not need to be filled with sound for the music to belong there.

One song was followed by another. Then there was a pause while the cups were carried through.

A playlist can be a small decision. You do not need to collect every Christmas song you have ever liked, or find something nobody else knows. Three songs can give an evening a beginning. Silence can have its place afterwards.

There was no music written in the notebook. Only a line to leave the evening a little room.

Continue: The Christmas Home Café

Back to the contents

Day 6

A place for a note

There was an envelope beside the bread when the kitchen door opened. Nothing on the outside suggested a special occasion. Inside were three lines thanking someone for carrying a heavy bag home in the rain.

The person reading it stood still for a moment. They had forgotten about the bag.

By the time the kettle boiled, the note had found a place on the shelf.

Some presents take a long time to choose. A thank-you can be much smaller, and still deserve keeping.

Continue: The Christmas gifts I'd actually give

Back to the contents

Day 7

The bookshop stop

The bookshop window held a small stack rather than a great display. A paper bookmark leaned against one cover, and a lamp made a circle of light on the wood beneath it.

At home in Hollowpine, someone took a book from their own shelf. It had been waiting there for a while. The bookmark from another book was moved into it, and the notebook was set aside.

There was nothing to choose after that.

Reading can become another thing to organise if you let it. A seasonal list. A book that seems to belong to this month. A number of pages to finish before bedtime.

You can begin with the book that is already near you. Read a little. Leave it open at the place you reach. A familiar chapter counts just as much as a new one.

Continue: Christmas traditions for couples

Back to the contents

Day 8

Orange on the board

An orange rolled against the edge of the chopping board and stopped. Beside it, a saucepan waited while someone found the page with the drink they had decided to make.

In Hollowpine, the notebook had been moved away from the kitchen's busy corner. There was no reason for chocolate to join the marks already on its cover.

The peel gave its scent to the room before the mugs were filled. One was carried to the table. The other followed, carefully, with both hands around it.

Some evenings need very little added to them. A warm drink can be the thing itself, rather than something made while you keep working. You can sit down before answering the next message. You can let the mug have your attention for a moment.

The orange stayed on the board until later.

Continue: Orange hot chocolate

Back to the contents

Day 9

The smaller list

The notebook contained two pages of gift ideas. On the first were things already chosen. On the second were possibilities copied down whenever someone had thought of another present.

In Hollowpine, the second page was read once more. A few lines were crossed out. Others were left for another year. The notebook closed more easily with the decision made.

A list can make an unfinished thought feel like a promise. It does not have to be one. An idea can remain an idea without becoming something you must find, pay for or wrap.

There was still one name to think about. That seemed more manageable than the whole page.

Look at the amount you have already set aside before adding anything else. The quietest part of a budget is sometimes the moment when you decide that enough has been chosen.

Continue: A Calm Christmas Budget

Back to the contents

Day 10

Two plates

Two plates came down from the cupboard. They were set opposite each other, then moved a little nearer the table's edges.

In the Hollowpine kitchen, someone placed an empty serving dish between them. It fitted. The glasses could be reached without moving anything, and the notebook had to find a different place for the evening.

That was a useful sort of preparation.

A table can look finished before it works. You only notice the difficulty when the food arrives and there is nowhere to put it. Trying the ordinary objects first makes the rest easier to judge.

The napkins were folded once. A small central detail was moved to the side. Neither decision needed to be written down.

There was room for elbows, a dish and the sort of conversation that happens when people have somewhere comfortable to sit.

Continue: How to host Christmas without missing Christmas

Back to the contents

Day 11

A familiar beginning

The first few notes were enough. One person recognised the film before the opening scene, and the other had already begun to move the cups towards the comfortable chairs.

In Hollowpine, the notebook was closed for the evening. Its pencil stayed inside. There was nothing to decide about what came next on the screen.

A familiar film has a particular use in December. You can settle into it without wondering whether you should have chosen something else. You know the room it will make around you for a little while.

There is no need to spend the first half of the evening searching for the right thing. The choice can be made before the drink is poured.

A blanket was unfolded. The remote was put where it could be found again. Someone switched off the brighter light.

Continue: A Christmas movie night for grown-ups

Back to the contents

Day 12

Halfway through the book

By the twelfth evening, the notebook contained a menu, a list of parcels and several ideas copied down because they had looked lovely somewhere else.

On the kitchen table in Hollowpine, its pages were spread beside two cups. One person pointed to a line. The other shook their head. It was crossed out, and neither of them tried to replace it.

There are twelve doors behind us now. You may have opened all of them. You may have found this one first. Either way, there is nothing to catch up on before you are allowed to enjoy tonight.

Continue: How to host Christmas without missing Christmas

Back to the contents

Day 13

A parcel at the door

The small parcel was left inside the doorway, where it would be noticed before anyone went out again. There was no announcement and no occasion written on its tag.

In Hollowpine, the person who had put it there returned to the kitchen. The notebook was still open. A line about helping someone with an ordinary task could be crossed out now.

Not every kindness needs wrapping. Sometimes the useful thing is a message, a bag carried upstairs or a little patience while someone finishes speaking. It can be offered without making the day about the person offering it.

The parcel was found later. By then, its giver was doing something else.

There is a comfortable simplicity in thinking about what would actually help. You do not need to turn it into a gesture with a story attached.

Continue: The Christmas gifts I'd actually give

Back to the contents

Day 14

A little cinnamon

The kitchen smelled of cinnamon before the cup reached the table. Someone stirred, tasted and put the spoon down on its saucer.

In Hollowpine, the notebook lay beside the lamp rather than beside the saucepan. The afternoon had gained a small pause, which did not need to be added to any list.

It is possible to make an occasion without preparing an entire evening. A drink you enjoy can be enough. So can sitting down while it is still warm, instead of carrying it from task to task until you forget where you left it.

Outside, the light was beginning to change. Inside, the chair had nothing on it that needed moving first.

A little cinnamon stayed on the edge of the saucer. The cup was lifted, and for a moment the next thing could wait.

Continue: Gingerbread latte

Back to the contents

Day 15

The market remembered

From the square came the smell of something warm in a paper wrapper. The kitchen in Hollowpine was quieter, with the notebook open beside a small plate.

Someone had written down one thing they would like to make. Only one. The page had room for more, but there was no need to fill it.

A market evening can leave behind a particular detail. The warmth of a cup. The first bite of something you waited for. The moment when you decide to stop walking and stand still beneath the lights.

At home, the plate held one warm thing they both wanted to eat. It did not need a whole stall around it. The lamp was on, the table was clear, and the kitchen could remain an ordinary kitchen.

There was no attempt to recreate every part of the square.

Continue: A Christmas market evening at home

Back to the contents

Day 16

The cupboard check

The jar was behind the flour, exactly where nobody had thought to look. It was brought forward and set beside the notebook.

In Hollowpine, the shopping list became shorter by one line. Then another, once the shelf above it had been checked. Someone put the pencil down before finding any new reason to pick it up.

Knowing what is already there is a small relief. It saves a journey through the shop looking for something you have, and makes the meal feel a little closer to happening.

You do not need to organise every cupboard to find that out. Begin with the list for the food you actually plan to make. Check one ingredient at a time. Notice quantities, dates and whether the packet is still useful for that recipe.

The flour went back. The jar stayed where it could be seen.

Continue: How to host Christmas without missing Christmas

Back to the contents

Day 17

A little daylight

There was still enough light to see the path beyond the last house. Someone noticed it while carrying a cup to the sink, and left the cup there for later.

In Hollowpine, the notebook remained on the table. The unfinished washing-up was not an instruction to stay inside until everything was done.

They stepped out for a little while. By the time they came back, the windows had begun to show more of the rooms behind them than the sky above.

The daylight in December can be easy to miss. You look up between tasks and discover that the afternoon has already gone. A short pause while it is still there can give the day a different shape.

The cup was washed afterwards. Nothing had been lost by waiting.

Continue: Christmas bucket list for adults

Back to the contents

Day 18

The evening kept free

In the Hollowpine notebook, Christmas Eve had acquired a single word beneath its date: home. There were no arrows, no times to leave and no second plan written in the margin.

Outside, someone was carrying a parcel across the square. Inside, the two chairs had been pulled a little closer to the lamp.

Bas and I keep Christmas Eve for the two of us. That is one of the few personal details this calendar needs. An evening can matter because you decide to leave it available.

And being together does not require doing the same thing. Bas builds Lego while I read. There is something very comfortable about letting two different activities share a room.

Continue: Christmas Eve is still magical when you're grown up

Back to the contents

Day 19

Paper and string

The final corner lay flat beneath a thumb. Someone held it there for a moment before turning the parcel over and finding the tag.

In the Hollowpine kitchen, the notebook had been moved away from the wrapping paper. The table was just large enough for one present at a time, which made it easier to finish the one in front of them.

The string was tied. The name went on the tag before the parcel joined the others.

Wrapping can become a pile of nearly finished things. A loose ribbon. A label you intend to remember. A piece of paper waiting for something to hold its last fold.

One complete parcel is a useful place to stop. It does not matter whether the next one looks exactly the same. The tag has a job, and the paper has done its own.

Continue: The Christmas gifts I'd actually give

Back to the contents

Day 20

Something already made

Two small bowls waited in the refrigerator, covered and put where they would not be forgotten. On the kitchen table, the notebook had one less thing to ask of tomorrow.

In Hollowpine, someone checked the page once more, then closed it. There was no reason to begin another dish simply because the first had gone well.

Making something ahead can give an evening a little space. It helps most when the thing you prepare is familiar, and you know how it should be stored and finished. A new idea can wait for a day when nobody is depending on the whole meal arriving together.

The bowls would come out when they were needed. Until then, they could remain exactly where they were.

There was still time to sit down before the kitchen's brighter light was switched off.

Continue: How to host Christmas without missing Christmas

Back to the contents

Day 21

The decoration that stayed

The ornament had lost a little of its shine. In Hollowpine, it was lifted from the box and held near the tree until someone found the branch where it would sit comfortably.

The notebook lay open on the table. Beneath the evening's date, there was space for a few words about why this small thing belonged here. Nobody needed to improve the sentence once it was written.

A decoration can belong for reasons that do not show in a photograph. It may remind someone of an ordinary day, or simply be the one they still like when everything else has been put away.

You do not need an old object or an impressive story to keep something. A small detail can matter because you have chosen to notice it.

The ornament turned slightly on its thread. Then it was left alone.

Continue: A Christmas tree should tell your story

Back to the contents

Day 22

A clear corner

The table had gathered papers again. A list had arrived beside the notebook, and a small piece of ribbon had somehow found its way underneath one plate.

In Hollowpine, the papers were lifted into a single pile. The ribbon returned to its box. Two places remained, with room between them for the dish that would arrive later.

The table did not look empty. It looked ready to be used.

This close to Christmas, there can be a temptation to add the last few things simply because they are waiting. Another ornament. Another glass. Something lovely that has no useful place beside the food.

You can leave it elsewhere. A table only has to hold what the people sitting there will need.

The notebook went to the sideboard. Its next page could wait until tomorrow.

Continue: How to host Christmas without missing Christmas

Back to the contents

Day 23

Enough for tomorrow

The notebook was open beside the fruit bowl again. This time there were crumbs in the fold and a faint mark where a cup had been put down too quickly.

On tomorrow's page, three things remained: food, two places, an evening at home. The ribbon could stay a little crooked.

There is often one more thing you could do on the day before Christmas Eve. Another shop. Another recipe. Another idea that appears just as you thought you had finished.

Before you add it, ask what it would change.

Continue: Christmas Eve is still magical when you're grown up

Back to the contents

Day 24

The page left open

The two plates were on the table. Something warm waited between them, and the notebook lay open on the sideboard, no longer needed.

In Hollowpine, the evening had finally arrived. One chair moved back. Then the other. For the first time all day, both people sat down together.

Nothing else had to happen for it to count.

If you have followed these twenty-four evenings, thank you for spending a little of December here. If you have only arrived tonight, there is a place for you in the story too.

Bas and I keep Christmas Eve for two. Yours may be full of conversation, entirely your own, or somewhere between the two. I hope there is a moment in it when you can stop preparing and notice what is already here.

Continue: Christmas Eve is still magical when you're grown up · Also: Christmas morning before anything else

Back to the contents