Last weekend, we loaded our three children into the car and drove out to a farm to choose our Christmas tree. Instead of traipsing through the snow as I did in Scotland as a child, we skittered around the shadows of the stubby trees growing in the sandy soil of a blistering hot West Australian summer day. It would have been easier to drag our plastic tree down from the loft, or to go to the local market and buy a pre-cut tree, but this year, I wanted to do it properly.

As we loaded the tree into the car, filling it with the scent of pine, I saw the wide eyes and grins of my girls. My oldest child is 3 now, an age of wonder and an age at which her memories will stay with her until she grows up. I remember the Christmases of my own childhood: the anticipation; waking in the night and peering to the pillowcase at the end of my bed to see if Santa had been yet; the thrill of seeing that Rudolph had drunk his saucer of water and Santa had finished his dram of whiskey and shortbread, save for a few crumbs on the plate. I remember decorating the tree, watching movies on Christmas Eve, singing carols, and the annual visit by Santa Claus to our family parties to hand out the gifts.

It was magical.

Christmas cake – Scottish twist

As an adult, I lost that excitement. My associations with this time of year were all changed when I moved to Australia, and my traditions didn’t fit in here. Australia has its own traditions: the morning swim at the beach; cooking the turkey in the Weber; drinking cold white wine surrounded by the thrum of cicadas. But this year, I wanted to recreate some of the magic that I remember for my children.

After we decorated the tree, we washed the sticky pine needle sap from our hands before we switched the lights on. My children cheered and laughed. Every night, they rush to their advent calendar after dinner to count down the days until Christmas (and eat the chocolate!). We’ve posted letters to Santa and check the mail every day for his reply. We’ll leave Santa and Rudolph their drink and snack on the hearth of our fireplace for their visit on Christmas Eve, and we’ll play Christmas carols while we open our gifts on Christmas morning.

Can we create these memories for the children? Is it really these things that I remember, or is it that I associate these things with a time of year when our entire extended family would sit down together and share a meal, when all the cousins played together, when we’d move to another family member’s house in the evening to continue playing and eating and drinking until we trod home through the snow to our warm beds, exhausted but happy?

My children will remember our new traditions here, but most of all they will remember the time spent together as a family, the fun and the laughter and the love as I carry them asleep into their beds, tuck them in and wish them a Merry Christmas.