Time to bring down the curtain on another 12 days of Christmas

The event was marked by the visit of the three wise men from the east, each bearing a gift, although some regard them as three wise kings or national leaders.

The word epiphany means manifestation or apparition. In days gone by, especially in the north of England, that date was more widely celebrated than any of the other 12 days of Christmas.

It is difficult to trace precisely when celebration of the Epiphany actually began, with some authorities believing it started with the Gnostics about AD 125. Gnostics were a sect of early Christians founded by Simon Magus, who fell out with St Peter in AD 33.

By AD 81, the Gnostics' doctrines were fairly widespread, even extending to Rome and Syria, and the sect reached its peak about AD 150. From that time, it went into decline, although pockets of believers remained until AD 350 or thereabouts.

As far as the feast of the Epiphany is concerned, it does not appear to have been adopted by the Catholic church until AD 230, although it was a further 600 years or so before it was accepted as a feast in its own right.

Now, like many aspects of Christianity, celebration of this feast day is on the decline. Today, it marks little more than the official end of a bout of furious commercialisation.

Even in the depths of winter, a walk in the countryside will reveal flowers in bloom. One of the most colourful and prominent, especially on the moors, is the gorse, with its dense, prickly evergreen spikes and bright yellow flowers.

This is one shrub which blooms throughout the entire year and there is an old saying that "when the gorse is out of bloom, kissing is out of fashion."

Its name varies around the region, alternatively being known as furze or whin. I think the formal name of gorse, and the alternative of furze, are perhaps more widely used in the south of England and the Midlands.

It seems this region prefers to use the name whin, and I believe the fox coverts of old were known as whins. Foxes were one of the animals which made good use of the whin as a shelter. It follows that whin blossom was the name of its flower, while the bushes were sometimes called busks, ie whin busks.

This is one of the toughest of our plants, being able to survive on the bleakest of landscapes in windswept conditions and with little apparent sustenance from the light, rather poor, earth which supports it.

It succeeds because its thick, spiky leaves are able to reduce the amount of moisture lost through their surfaces and, furthermore, gorse can withstand the most severe of frosts.

Even if it is damaged by outside forces such as storms, fire and frost, it will quickly recover by sending up new shoots. This makes the whin one of the most resilient of our plants and may explain why it is so plentiful on our moorlands.

Its prime feature is its very prickly nature. It also grows into a very dense shrub, rising to some six or seven feet (two metres or so), and this makes it ideal as a nesting site for moorland birds such as linnets and stonechats. They can safely nest deep inside this all-protecting shell, secure from the attentions of predators like sparrowhawks and cats.

Its protective qualities were also recognised by our forefathers, who planted whin in the form of hedgerows. Its density meant it provided a very effective windshield, but at the same time it acted as a deterrent, preventing livestock from straying and deterring unwelcome visitors from entering private places. A hedge of whin around a garden or house makes it very secure.

Housewives also took advantage of it. In the days before clothes horses, many country women would dry their washing on whin bushes. The prickles did not appear to damage the fabric, but they did prevent it from blowing away and the sight of these bushes covered with washing left out to dry was common in our moorland communities on warm sunny days.

In winter, of course, this was not such a regular occurrence and some husbands were persuaded to construct an alternative upon which clothes could be dried inside the house. Not surprisingly, this was widely known as a winterhedge, although we would now call it a clothes horse.

I've heard the term winterhedge used in very recent times on the North York Moors, although it does not appear to be in very common use. Certainly, it is not in my standard English dictionary.

Clearly, the prime time for the whin or gorse to be in flower is during the spring and summer although, as I have said, it does bloom throughout the entire year.

Indeed, there is a saying which tells us that "Britain will never be conquered while the gorse is in flower", but like so many plants its seeds reach maturity in the autumn.

They are contained in small black pods, rather like pea pods, and they burst open with a loud crack when they are ripe. This action hurls the tiny seeds away from the parent bush and, if you take a summer walk on the moors, you might hear the distinctive sound of gorse pods popping all around you. The mere action of walking close to a ripening pod is often enough to make it explode.

There is a very similar plant on our moors too, and some people confuse it with the gorse or whin. This is the broom, which is also found in domestic gardens where several varieties are available. They are welcomed by gardeners because they are easy to grow and offer much by way of ornamental value. Like the gorse, they can tolerate very dry, stony or poor soil, and they can be found in both dwarf and conventional species.

In the wild, broom grows to a height of about 7ft (2m) and its flowers are bright yellow, being very similar to the gorse. The two are easily distinguished from one another because the broom does not have spikes and its branches are more pliable. Its leaves are small, elongated and evergreen, although it does produce seeds in small pods. In the wild, both plants favour high ground with poor, sandy soil.

Housewives of the past would tie bunches of broom twigs together and use them to sweep the floor - which is why some brushes are still called brooms.

One of the odd aspects of the recent Christmas, which is already fading from our memories, is the increasingly common practice of sending round robins with cards.

Probably thanks to the computer, people can now bombard all their friends, family and contacts with long and boring missives which attempt to thrill us with utterly irrelevant family news.

I think this idea began about ten years ago. It's a bit like family holiday snapshots or videos, but worse.

What might be fascinating and memorable from a family's point of view is usually of absolutely no interest whatever to anyone else, especially those who have no knowledge of the characters or relatives involved.

This time, we learned that little Amy was an angel in a nativity play, but I've no idea who Amy is. Then another writer told us he'd scored a six in a cricket match and another long-winded piece began with the family all getting colds the Christmas before last, and then descending through all manner of ailments until Great Aunt Felicity took to her bed with everything she could catch, including old age. It would have been hilarious if it hadn't been so sad.

To be honest, some of these letters can be highly entertaining when read out at parties, but that's not what is intended.

I believe the term "round robin" comes from the French "rond", meaning round, and "ruban", meaning ribbon. This was something used by French sailors where everyone was involved, and the term has been corrupted into round robin.

It now refers to one letter which is sent to lots of people, sometimes in the course of business, but increasingly as a strange additive to our Christmas cards