Every Christmas, as frost gathers on the windowpanes and the kettle rarely gets a chance to cool, we bake gingerbread. Always little gingerbread men. Not because they’re fussy or fancy, but because they remind us of childhood and cheerful, flour-dusted kitchens.
They’re soft, warmly spiced, and made in batches big enough to fill every corner of the house with the scent of cinnamon, ginger, and home. We wrap them carefully and tie them with twine.
We gift them to neighbours and friends, and those who have made an impact in some way, throughout the previous twelve months. A tiny army of gingery gratitude, making its way out from Bramble Cottage each year.
These little folk are our gifts of thought and thanks. Not flashy, not expensive. Just a way to say:
“You matter. Thank you. We’re glad you’re in our world.”