CHRISTMAS Bells, a lily, grow in wet coastal heathland along the coastal ranges of eastern Australia.

They flower in summer and were a much-admired feature of the Coffs Harbour district, especially at Christmas.

Acres of them grew south of the city at the rifle range and racecourse, thousands spreading along the railway line toward Sawtell.

A large plain of them grew opposite the showground and in the area now occupied by Park Beach Plaza and York Street Oval.

Described in one newspaper as ‘a carpet of yellow with a reddish tint on the landscape’, bunches of them, along with Christmas Bush, adorned the inside of many local houses and businesses for Christmas, while palm fronds and other bush branches were used as external decorations.

In December 1920 the local newspaper revealed they would ‘fetch fancy prices in the city, but can be gathered in the millions around here’.

Four years later, a cook’s assistant from the s.s. Dorrigo may have had this in mind or perhaps he was thinking of his wife, when he disembarked to pick them. Unconcerned over his absence, s.s. Dorrigo resumed its journey, but called into port a few days later, on its return trip to pick him up.

Sadly however, that same day his body washed up on shore, an inquiry finding he had drowned.

Christmas Bells were also sold at the train station, however 1926 bushfires badly affected their numbers and in January 1927 they were included in the new Wildflowers Protection Act.

By the 1940s they had recovered and remained a source of local pride, appearing in illustrations and poems by school children.

On land owned by the Shire Council, near Vincent Street, the colourful masses carpeted the area, interspersed with Black Boys, leading to a failed movement in the 1960s to have the area declared a flora reserve.

By the 1980s the formation of Christmas Bells Road, drainage and various other developments saw a virtual loss of them in the city.

Christmas Bells

What a lovely splash of colour out upon the plain,

It’s Christmas time, and Christmas bells are dancing in the rain;

There are so many colours in our Christmas bell,

And every different colour suits it very well.

There are orange, red and yellow, even down to cream,

And they all grow together and look just like a dream,

But when the bells all fade away and none of them I see,

I’ll wait till Christmas comes again to bring them back to me.

Written by Colleen Gill (aged nine) and printed in the Daily Examiner, 21 March 1946

By Karen FILEWOOD