They make such excellent Christmas trees that I can't understand why Scots and lodgepole pines have been crowded out by firs and spruces. The genus pinus, which includes 1200 species in the northern hemisphere, was once hugely popular. The resins in the wood and winter buds release a wonderful festive aroma when a tree or branches are brought into a warm atmosphere.

Sappy slivers of the wood and roots have been used as long burning tapers and torches. This was great for outdoor celebrations or a stone castle, but might not be too wise now when prancing round your highly decorated and inflammable Christmas tree.

Even well-seasoned timber is full of combustibles, as anyone using pine logs on a wood burner will tell you. I certainly ration how much goes on the fire at a time, however impressive the blaze. But wood cutters used to prize this sap and only felled Scots pine when the moon was waxing. They reckoned the wood became more resinous, which made it more pliable and long-lasting. A nice thought, but the time of year and the weather are much more important factors.

As a bonus, the needles on Scots pine don’t drop, unlike spruce and fir trees. The small bundles of needles persist outdoors for between two and four years, so a fortnight is not a problem. And the needles on lodgepole pine trump that by hanging on for an extra couple of years, though that's nothing compared to the toughies on one 4800-year-old bristlecone pine specimen, which were recorded to have endured for 40 years.

But be warned. Pines may keep their needles, but they can often make themselves heard. The warm and dry atmosphere of the average home triggers any cones to open with a crack and a pop, as they would naturally during a warm and dry day to let the wind disperse the seed. The cones protect any remaining seed by closing up again when it’s wet.

A Scots pine, Pinus sylvestris, makes the perfect Christmas tree, but, when mature, it’s a glorious sight in its natural surroundings. The one in my field must be well on its way to a height of 30 metres, so I’d sooner have it there than in my garden.

This statuesque specimen stayed small and bushy for several years after I had planted it, but as it grew it dropped its lower branches, only to display its impressively tough, coppery bark. But there are plenty other, more modest forms of P sylvestris for a garden.

Watereri, Walter’s pine, is a small and compact tree with fine blue-grey needles and grows very slowly to reach five metres. With a final height of two to four metres, Chantrey Blue gives a similar effect when space is more limited. Fastigiata, the Sentinel pine, will, after many years, get to eight metres, with a modest one to three metre spread.

At three metres tall, P thunbergii Thundercloud, the Japanese black pine, is more restrained and would suit many gardens; the emerging buds, covered in white parchment-like scales, set off the dark green bushy needles. Who needs snow in winter?

Although some forms of the Japanese black pine, P thunbergii, can reach 20 metres, others have been bred for use as bonsais – if you’re into Lilliputian gardening. Their salt tolerance makes all thunbergii especially valuable if you live near the coast.

The most commonly planted dwarf pine is Pinus mugo, also known as the scrub or Swiss mountain pine. These creeping shrubs come in several forms and are all very slow growing, perhaps attaining one metre after 10 to 15 years. They have attractive, prominent buds and cones and sit comfortably in a large planter.