Yew Berries

Day 62: I don't know if it's myth or fact, but I've heard it said that yew fruits every seventh year. I suspect there's some validation for the statement, although I would think the schedule might be somewhat less rigid. At least in my own observations of the solitary female yew in my hedgerow, I have only seen the berries (arils, actually) appear four or five times in the thirty years I've lived here. Aril. Yes, let's look at that word a little more closely while we're at it. Technically, these little red Christmas ornaments hiding in the deep green shadows are not berries, despite what they look like. "Aril" describes the fleshy outer covering of the seeds of certain plants like yew. In fact, the pips inside a pomegranate are also arils, each containing a single seed. As for the arils of the yew, be strongly advised that although the fleshy portion is considered edible, the seed inside is poisonous! The foliage of the yew is also poisonous when ingested, and the toxins it contains may be absorbed through the skin. That said, yew'd do well to leave the whole plant alone.

Yew Will Be Relocating

Day 58: The former owners of my property must have been on a tight budget. They planted a line of two dozen yews (species undetermined) along the front to serve as a hedge, spacing them uniformly until they ran out...about fifty feet from the actual corner of the lot. The remaining space was protected against trespassers by a three-line barbed wire fence which lasted a few years into my tenancy and then fell over. By then, a significant amount of unsightly brush had grown up in the gap where the fence had restricted mowing, so I left it as a deterrent and kept it trimmed back to a manageable mess. Then one day as I was walking around the yard, I spotted a couple of yew seedlings thirty feet from the hedge. At first, I thought they might have been the progeny of the sole female yew in the planting, but then I realized that they had propagated from pruned bits I'd dropped on my way to the burn pile. Nature herself had offered me a solution to the hedge gap, so I transplanted four or five to the line. Only one survived, possibly because I shaved the others off at ground level with the mower, not recalling where I'd put them until it was too late. Now I have another opportunity. I've staked out half a dozen volunteers, the tallest no more than six inches. Yew will be relocating some time this winter.

Patty's Birthday Bathmats

Day 99: Ever hear the phrase "hoist with his own petard?" Few people can quote the line from Hamlet accurately, and even fewer understand what it means, i.e., to be destroyed by a weapon you intended to use against someone else. In the popular (and erroneous) sense, it is frequently used to imply that a plan has backfired, as mine did when in early December, I posted a photo of three rugs I had just taken off the loom. My intention was to distract a friend from thinking my chattering about weaving might indicate that she might receive a birthday gift of handwovens. I mean, would I post a picture of somebody's present before delivering it? That's when the plan went south.

Patty (whose birthday was coming up in January, intended recipient for two of the three maroon/green bathmats) commented on the photo: "Wow! I bet those would look great in sea blues and greens, too...just sayin'." Some further discussion ensued about how maroon/green would work in a different room, but I realized that if I really wanted to give her something she'd fully enjoy, I needed to get hopping and weave another set.

The first ones had taken over a year to complete because I got bored with the repetitive nature of tabby-weave. Now I had to settle in and do some serious weaving if I was to have blue/green ones done in time. Fortunately, I had nothing on the loom, so made a quick trip to town for the weft (Bernat's "Blanket") and started warping as soon as I got home. Three days later, I had two bathmats and a toilet-tank topper done and ready to mail!