The Earthworm Xmas Gift Guide
The Earthworm Xmas Gift Guide
Or what to buy for the gardener who’s got everything
Hoe hoe hoe! Merry pseudo-secular non-specific festive period!
Here in the South of England, winter has arrived in earnest, with overnight temperatures consistently hovering around – or dropping below – freezing. In my garden, only my trusty Salvia ‘Amistad’ plants have held onto their blooms. On the “lawn”,1 a crunchy carpet of fallen leaves lies beneath the denuded box elder tree.
If you’re picturing a glistening, silvery scene, don’t. The light is too grey, the days too dark, the wind too biting to romanticise the picture outside my window. ‘In the Bleak Midwinter’ this ain’t. It is just plain bleak.
Meanwhile, my garden tasks are dwindling, but not yet done. I still have some work to do before downing tools til spring – the rambling rose needs taming, several climbers need tying in, and a box of unplanted spring bulbs waits impatiently by the back door, like an eager pup desperate for a walk/pee.
But enough of all that doom and gloom and jobs-still-to-do – let’s focus on the positive. Tis the season of rampant consumerism, after all!
No matter your own faith, family traditions or feelings towards Christmas, there is simply no avoiding it here in the UK. It is woven into our culture. And personally speaking, as a general fan of moments and occasions that bring people together; that highlight kindness and community over selfishness and division; I’m into it.
December in Britain, judged purely on climatic considerations and consequences, might just be the most depressing month of the year. If Christmas can lighten the mood and offer a flicker of light during our darkest days, then I see no reason not to let Santa try to squeeze his oversized arse down my chimney.
The Christmas gift guide has been a staple of the editorial world since day one (who could possibly consider frankincense a good gift for a newborn baby unless they'd read about it in a magazine?). So, I present to you The Earthworm Xmas Gift Guide, or what to buy for the gardener who’s got everything.
Every item listed below is a genuine personal recommendation, and the result of something that I have used, purchased or experienced myself. There is no sponsored content here, no affiliate links, no ulterior motives. Just stuff that has made my gardening life easier and more enjoyable, or fostered my love of plants and nature in some way. But this list is far from exhaustive – if you have any suggestions of your own, please do share them with The Earthworm community by leaving a comment at the end of this post.
Okatsune secateurs, £45
When it comes to garden secateurs – the go-to tool for pruning and fine-tuning – it really is a case of “buy cheap, buy twice”. Poorly designed secateurs will break within the year, and probably give you a repetitive strain injury in the process. Blunt secateurs, in addition, will damage your precious plants.
These Japanese-made blades may be on the pricey side when compared with the generic garbage you can pick up at the garden centre, but they will ensure your snipping sessions are satisfying and successful. Their red-and-white handles don’t just look the part – they’re designed to stand out in any environment, so you don’t waste hours of your life scrabbling about in the soil trying to remember where you left them. (Just remember, always use the right tool for the job: if cutting any woody material girthier than a pencil, you’ll probably need loppers or a pruning saw.)
Hori Hori, £35
This is the ultimate multitool. If you don’t already have one, I envy you, for you are still to experience the epiphany of encountering the one tool to rule them all. With its sharp-pointed, serrated-sided, long-lengthed, concave blade, the Hori Hori (from the Japanese “to dig”) does it all. I use it for weeding, bulb planting, twine cutting, light pruning, compost bag-opening, and much more besides.
Grow-at-home oyster mushroom kit, £22.50
I wrote recently about my experience of growing my own yellow oyster mushrooms, so for the full story, follow this link. But here’s the headline: you can grow edible, unusual, delicious shrooms from the comfort of your own kitchen/living room/bedroom/bathroom. Growing them is fascinating, rapidly rewarding (you’ll be harvesting within 2-3 weeks) and foolproof (the company I used, Caley Bros, guarantees a first crop). You need neither space nor experience nor “green fingers” to grow them, and they look beautiful too. The next post-out dates for the Caley Bros are now in January, but you could always gift an IOU.
Bug Jar, £5.95
Snails, woodlice, spiders and, of course, earthworms; these are the things that excite my four-year-old about being out in the garden. A bug jar is a great way to foster the thrill that minibeasts inspire in minipeople, and help nurture that innate appreciation for the natural world that we’re all born with, but modern life can drum out of us. My son received his bug jar as a gift from a friend (and Earthworm reader – hi Julia!), and he has been known to take it with him to bed. (Insect-free, I should add.)
Remember always to handle critters with care and return them gently whence they came.
Children’s gardening kit, £15
Let’s be honest, my son is more hindrance than help when he joins me in the garden. But I don’t mind: the joy he derives from digging pointless little holes with his very own tiny trowel makes up for any damage he might inadvertently do to my plants. There are plenty of these kits out there, so do shop around, but this is the one we’ve got and my son loves it, proudly carrying it around with him whenever the opportunity arises.
Roald Dahl's James's Giant Bug Book, £7.99
Another one for kids and families, this book is packed with fun facts and try-at-home activities inspired by (and illustrated with) the creepy crawlies that feature in Roald Dahl and Quentin Blake’s work. Find out how to tell the difference between a centipede and a millipede, or learn how to create your own ant farm and build a bug hotel. My son received this as a gift from his grandparents and he loves it.
Garden Answers magazine subscription, £49.99
I don’t publicise this as often as I should – in fact, I can’t remember if I’ve ever mentioned this on The Earthworm – but since January 2023, I’ve been writing a monthly column in Garden Answers magazine. For those who don’t know it, GA is a long-established gardening title full of the kind of expert practical how-to advice that you will almost never find here.
If you want genuinely useful and seasonally appropriate information that will help you become a better gardener, GA is the mag for you. Equally, if you like to read the thoughtful, thought-provoking and entirely un-useful (not to say useless) musings of yours truly, then it is also the mag for you! I don’t gain anything by you buying a copy, taking out a subscription or reading my back-page column, but I really do think it’s a great publication. Plus you get a free packet or seeds or two with every issue, which is nice.
RHS membership, £59
In a sense, this is the most obvious imaginable gift for a gardener or garden-lover. But an RHS membership is so worthwhile that I felt compelled to include it here, just in case. For all its hoity-toity history and status as a venerable old institution, the RHS is a registered charity and one that’s taking some big steps in a very positive direction, increasingly taking a firm and public stance on environmental, ecological and moral matters, in the realm of horticulture, anyway.
Fundamentally though, you just get a lot of good stuff from your membership: free access to the five RHS gardens; free or discounted entry to dozens of so-called Partner Gardens; plant/gardening advice from a team of actual RHS experts; and best of all, an automatic free subscription to the members’ magazine The Garden, which is consistently a very good read. (Long-term Earthworm readers may remember the interview I did with the editor of The Garden, Tom Howard.)
I’ll declare an interest here: in 2023 I was the Show Guides Editor at the RHS (a role I’ll be repeating in 2024), and am a regular contributor to the magazine’s editorial content. But as I’ve said before, I owe them nothing and wouldn’t recommend a membership if I myself wasn’t paying for one (I am) and didn’t think it was worth the money (it is).
An annual subscription to The Earthworm, £40
I’ve written at length about the dire state of the editorial/publishing industry in which I built my career. It is a sector in decline for all sorts of reasons, some more obvious and well publicised than others. And as a result, it is increasingly difficult to earn a living as a writer. Substack – the platform on which I publish this newsletter/blog/literary gold dust – has been conceived to offer a solution to this sorry state of affairs. Here, I am able to speak directly to you, my reader; and you are able to directly support me, your humble servant.
A paid subscription doesn’t get you reams of additional content. It doesn’t get you exclusive access to live events. It doesn’t get you photos of my sock drawer (these I offer free to any curious parties). What you taking out a paid subscription does is to allow me to continue to publish. Without the support of its paid subscribers, The Earthworm would struggle to survive.
So to those who have already taken out paid subscriptions, I thank you. And to those who haven’t, consider this 20% discount on annual subscriptions an early Christmas present from me to you. (It basically knocks the price from £50 down to £40.)
If nothing else, it’s a great quirky last minute gift for garden folk!
Eley Kishimoto x Niwaki Flash Cap, £35
Can you believe that there are people out there who would dispute the notion that gardening is cool, and deny that gardeners are deeply and inherently stylish people? To these naysayers I present this cap, a collaboration between Japanese garden wares brand Niwaki and print design supremos Eley Kishimoto.
William Morris tea towel, £9.95
To quote an iconic poet and lyricist: “William Morris loved birds, leaves and flowers / His patterns and prints will enchant you for hours.”2
The social activist, writer and artist William Morris is probably most widely remembered for his beautiful nature-inspired textile designs. These days, you can buy everything from socks and cushions to wallpaper, baubles, aprons and even football shirts featuring (or inspired by) his prints and patterns. This tea towel makes for a lovely, low-cost stocking filler.
Weeds: the story of outlaw plants, £10.99
This book, by the brilliant British nature writer Richard Mabey, is an elegantly and accessibly written social history of “outlaw plants”. It traces how certain species came to cross international borders and gain their ubiquity and notoriety. But it also traces, perhaps more interestingly still, our cultural attitudes towards these plants. It’s full of rich storytelling and I reckon would make a great gift for even a non-gardening lover of non-fiction. (For a full review, check out this previous edition of The Earthworm.)
Donate to a gardening charity
Making a charitable donation on someone’s behalf or in their name is a really lovely way to nod to, yet subvert, the crazy consumerism of the Christmas period. In horticultural terms, there are a number of worthy beneficiaries. Perennial supports those working in horticulture, and their families, when times get tough. Thrive provides horticultural therapy to a really wide range of people, and proves time and time again the healing power of plants and gardening. Greenfingers supports life-limited children and their families and carers, offering “emotional support through the power and pleasure of nature”. The work of all of these charities (and more) deserve all the donations they can muster.
Thanks for reading The Earthworm. As I said up top, if you have any suggestions of your own for gifts for the plant-curious consumer, please do leave a comment with your recommendation. Whatever your feelings about Christmas, and whatever your plans for the festive period, I wish you tidings of comfort and joy.
Regular readers will know that my lawn is anything but a manicured carpet of lush green grass, but rather a home to dandelions, buttercups, clovers and the odd plucky blade of grass.
The “iconic poet and lyricist” in question here is, in fact, me. Back in 2021, I published a children’s picture book all about my local area (Walthamstow in East London), which also happens to be where William Morris himself lived for a time, and where the gallery that bears his name is located. The line quoted in this post is from that very same book. If you’re still curious, you can check out (and buy!) the book here.
So helpful thank you! Merry Christmas
Great list! Will definitely be getting inspiration for my Mum's present.
And ONIONS on the monthly column. That's awesome news, and such a handsome photo of you!