Bloodwood Christmas

In the olden days, Christmas Day used to be a special; especially special for working class families like mine.

In many ways it represented the absolute reward we worked towards throughout the remaining 364 days of the year. It was as much a celebration of survival as a family as it was a religious festival.

There would be home killed roast chicken alongside the home grown baked vegetables. If the barramundi were biting and the prawns schooling, they’d also make an appearance amongst the mince pies mangoes and pavlovas for dessert.

And, back then, Santa was real. He wasn’t one of a thousand Mall Santas flogging you crap on AfterPay you didn’t need; He was the fat bloke in the furry red suit who parked his reindeer powered sleigh on your roof, slid down the chimney and delivered, (if you had been a good boy), extraordinary presents that you actually needed for survival over the subsequent 364 days until he visited again.

The fact that, at that time of year we were often being threatened by a cyclone in the Deep North and we didn’t have a chimney didn’t seem to matter. Our fibrolite-encased war service home welcomed anybody bonkers enough to be both fat and embalmed in a thick red woollen suit in tropical NQ, provided he delivered. And deliver he did..second hand re-painted hand-me-down bicycles, a new home sewn school uniform if you were the eldest, your older brother’s hand me downs reinforced and starched if you were next in line, and your first school shoes if you were moving up to High School next year.

You see, from a pure survival point of view, it was good news that Santa continued to be believed in for as long as pragmatically possible..I remember hoping he would bring me a motorbike for my 15th Christmas. He didn’t..but because of my rapidly sprouting facial hair and equally impressive acne, he did deliver me a NEW cut-throat razor and a bottle of listerine for external and internal use. Oh, and an orange for some long lost Northern Hemispheric reason in the bottom of my Christmas stocking.

But the best part of the day was after Christmas dinner, when the adult males would have a home made long-neck or six while the women cleaned up the aftermath of dinner. Patrician and reserved for the preceding 364 days, that afternoon these provincial patriarchs let their masks slip bigly. As a kid, for those comatose hours you could get away with anything. When I say “anything”, you could stand in front of them, lawyer cane baton in hand and conduct them as they snored like so many beached earless elephant seals; tickle their toes until, in this order, they farted, burped and rolled over in their squatter’s chairs and even, if the beer had been reinforced with a dash or two of rum, play the long game by hiding a green tree frog inside their shiny black Masonic brief cases.

Ah, those were the days on that special day. Nowadays, it seems that every day is Christmas Day to the effect that the great day is no longer special. Need a roast chook and dessert right now and you can order it online for 2pm delivery any day of the year. Haven’t done your Christmas shopping yet? There’s only a month to go so you’d better get your act together. And if you are really clever as a little bitty consumer, you’ll not buy anything at all for Christmas presents and Cash-In on the Boxing Day sales.

All I can say is that I miss Christmas day and Rhonda and I wish you all the type of day you all deserve. And if the Boxing Day sale mentality is your go, we hope you find a big fat green tree frog in your shiny black Masonic brief case the next time your visiting Grand Master addresses your local Lodge.

We Invite You To Discover the Magic of Bloodwood

The Heart of Orange, NSW

Nestled in the rolling hills to the north west of Orange, Bloodwood is not just a vineyard and winery—it’s an experience. As a pioneer of cool-climate viticulture in the region, Bloodwood is synonymous with artistry, passion, and a deep connection to the Wiradjuri land on which we live.

Why Bloodwood?

Pioneers of Excellence: Established in 1983, Bloodwood was the first vineyard in Orange to successfully grow premium grapes in the region’s unique cool climate. Our legacy is woven into every bottle.

Small Batch, Big Flavor: With a focus on quality over quantity, every Bloodwood wine is crafted with care. Small-batch production ensures that each vintage showcases the character of our Griffin Road terroir, the meticulous nature of our wine making processes and the prevailing vintage conditions.

Award-Winning Wines: Bloodwood wines have consistently earned critical acclaim for their generosity of flavour and balanced complexity. Whether it’s our ever popular Big Men In Tights, (everybody needs a Big Men In Tights) intriguingly structured Pinot Noir, or our crackingly refreshing Chardonnay, we offer something to excite every jaded palate.

Sustainability in Action: Bloodwood is deeply committed to sustainable viticulture. Our hands-on approach and minimal intervention in the vineyard allow nature to take the lead, resulting in wines that are as authentic as the environment from which they grow.

A Personal Touch: At Bloodwood, it’s not just about the wine—it’s about our people and our story. Rhonda and I are pleased to welcome visitors to the cellar door, offering intimate tastings by appointment and insights into our wine making and food matching philosophies.

Perfect for Every Occasion

Whether you’re raising a glass to celebrate Christmas with your enormous circle of Facebook friends and Holiday relatives, or hiding at home behind drawn curtains trying to avoid them all, Bloodwood’s range of wines has you covered. Our signature Chirac sparkling served super chilled in Chardonnay glasses with a crumble of Grana Padano is a revelation, while our range of medium body reds pair beautifully with many a hearty meal. And what is an Australian Christmas without our reverential Bloodwood Riesling and a dozen freshly chucked oysters. And if you don’t believe me, check out Rhonda’s Kitchen for her amazing recipies matching all our wines.

And if you’d like to curate your own mixed dozen please phone Rhonda or Stephen on 02 6363 5631 or email us at bigmen@bloodwood.biz.

Why a rose arose on the rows?

Answer: We grow roses at the end of our vine rows because they look good. Oh, and they are an earlier indicator of fungal diseases like black spot. And if the draught horses get a prickly reminder that they shouldn’t cut the ends of the row while they are pulling our silly plough, that’s a good thing too. Given that the appearance of fungal disease in roses is well within the window for similar infections in vines and that we haven’t used draught horses for silly ploughing ever at Bloodwood, it’s mostly because they look good. And unfashionable as it is in this world of direct, in your face twenty-four hour a day advertising, they are subliminal. You see deep RED against an iron bark end POST at the entrance to BLOOD WOOD..get it?

But is mostly because miniature Red Ramblers look good.

The Three Roos of Christmas

Being nominally Australian and totally Republican here at Bloodwood, we can’t afford Kings carrying gold, frankincense and myrrh, but we do have three Eastern Grey kangaroos conveniently named Melchior, Caspar and Balthazar who bless us with December paddocks of St John’s wort.

Now this may seem like a bit low rent to you Manger devotees out there, but according The Center for Complementary and Integrative Health, your wort of St John is useful in cases of depression, post-partum afflictions, menopausal symptom relief, attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder, somatic sympton disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder while topical application helps with wounds, bruises and muscle pains.

From the surviving Christmas point of view, that’s Gold, frankincense and myrrh enough for me.

At the end of our tethers

As you can see, we couldn’t get any goats or sheep this year so we had to make do with a calf; appropriately at the end of his tether. As for the manger, well that would have required quite a bit of manoeuvring and some forethought (not something in abundance here at Bloodwood this time of year) so unlike Our Lord, Johannes the calf had to be forcefully restrained and has to sleep on the dirt.

But the three wise Eastern Grey kangaroos did bring him any amount of St John’s wort. I can’t wait to see how his postpartum afflictions improve.

No biting!

And a final word from the real boss of bloodwood - did you just turn up without making an appointment?

Let’s hope we all make it to the new year!