Build-Your-Own Mistletoe

Day 55: When I was a kid, you used to be able to buy fresh mistletoe in the dime stores, at grocery checkouts, and other common venues. Yes, it had berries on it, but parents warned their kids that they were poisonous (and we listened!), and pet owners either hung the sprigs where their furry friends couldn't reach or pruned the berries off. If there were mistletoe-related fatalities, they were few and far between, but some official body somewhere decided that mistletoe represented an intolerable safety hazard, and it was removed from sale unless already divested of its fruit. One step led to another, and eventually, it became almost impossible to find fresh mistletoe. Now I'm not saying that I was ever kissed beneath a spray of this parasitic plant, no. In fact, I don't recall that ever happening. Still, mistletoe was as much a part of Christmas as ribbon candy and the manger scene. To the best of my knowledge, the only species of mistletoe native to Washington is a micro-mini version occurring on evergreen trees. Oregon's oaks grow a full-sized version, but driving to Oregon to hunt down an obliging oak seemed a rather excessive response to the problem. Instead, I built my own out of Fimo (a bake-in-the-oven polymer clay similar to Sculpey), and I think it looks a lot better than the weird artificials sold in craft stores these days. Does it work? Ask Tippy!

Mistletoe And Holly

Day 69: Happy Solstice! The mistletoe and holly are laid, the candles are lit, and...wait, what's that stuff on my garage roof? Snow! If you had gathered up every bit in my yard, you might have been able to fill a teacup, but snow on Solstice is even better than a white Christmas. Although I'm not as fond of the stuff as I was when I was a child, I still love snow, with the proviso that it does not linger on the ground when I have places to go and people to see, and allows me to enjoy it from the snug warmth of my home. Snow is fine if I can go to it; if it comes to me, it should have the politeness to give fair warning and refrain from calling at an inconvenient time or overstaying its welcome. A dab on the Solstice is genteel; a foot, unless it comes when I have nothing better to do than admire it, can only be considered a vulgarity not to be borne.

Glad Solstice

Day 69: A glad Solstice to you all, dear readers! I very nearly didn't have holly for this festive occasion. My customary bush had been picked bare by earlier visitors, and my second choice only had one twig with berries, the leaves badly bug-eaten. Defeated at both locations, I began searching. You wouldn't think it would be that hard. After all, holly is considered an invasive here, and I often find bushes growing miles from trailheads, planted there by birds. However, the rain was coming down in buckets and I was reluctant to walk even the half mile to a third known option. Fortunately, I found a small bush along a quiet roadside where I pulled off, got out and jumped the ditch, clippers in hand. Five minutes later, I was back in the dry car with my Solstice Holly in hand.

The mistletoe is another story. I haven't seen it in stores for years, although a friend reports that some nurseries carry it (berries removed), so more than thirty years ago, I "grew" my own from Fimo sculpting clay. Like its natural counterpart, it's shed a few berries over time, but at least I don't have to worry about my kitties being poisoned if they were to eat them.

The Light returns to the Pacific Northwest with a dash of snow and crisp temperatures. Winter is only just begun, but the seeds of Spring are germinating under the lengthening days. On this day of renewal, I wish you all the best for the coming seasons.

Solstice Greetings

Day 69: A Happy Solstice to you, my readers! Although holly poses no problem to find, mistletoe is quite another story. I have yet to observe it growing in the wild, and thus must make do with a sprig I created from plastic modelling clay. That said, three species do occur in the Pacific Northwest. Phoradendron flavenscens (Oak Mistletoe) grows primarily in the Willamette Valley (Oregon). Western Dwarf Mistletoe (Arceuthobium campylopodium) occurs on a variety of conifers, and Douglas' Dwarf Mistletoe is parasitic on Douglas fir (but only infrequently on the west side of the Cascades). It's possible that I have seen it without realizing it; it causes abnormal and irregular growth in its host, and may appear at a distance to look like massed fir needles and twigs. Arceuthobium campylopodium is known to occur in Mount Rainier National Park, specifically in the vicinity of White River. Ah! A project! Let me make this Solstice resolution: to find and photograph Dwarf Mistletoe during the coming year.

Solstice Greetings To All!

Day 69: Since the Solstice will occur at an hour when any right-minded person should be entertaining visions of sugarplums, I will take this opportunity to wish my friends and readers the joys of the day. In any event, the occasion has been ushered in with a fall of snow: winter has arrived a few hours early to the party, and by all estimates, will probably overstay its welcome. For now, however, I am delighted by the storybook scene outside my window, as visually traditional of the season as Currier and Ives. Let it snow! Here in my snug domain, I will dance the holly and the mistletoe. The Light is returning! Dark nights swiftly go!

Dance The Holly! Dance The Mistletoe!

Day 69: The Solstice finds the Pacific Northwest under a thick layer of dripping cloud, grey in the manner so typical of the area, yet those of us who are governed more by Nature than by the arbitrary structures of clock and calendar feel this turning in our bones. The Light is returning, a lengthening of daylight imperceptible at first, noticeable by those attuned to the change in a week or ten days, obvious to all by mid-January.

It is unsurprising that many mid-winter festivals incorporate illuminations into their observances, whether by candle, sparkling lights or a shining star atop the Christmas tree. For some, light is a metaphor (Christ as "the Light of the world"); for others, it is a physical thing (the flame in the darkness or the sun rising over a specific landmark). It is a theme which joins the hands of one faith with another and another, until all are standing in a great circle, linked by that one commonality. We are brought to unity by Light.

In peace and in harmony, turn your hearts to the Light.
Let it shine on you and within you; be its messenger.
Carry the Light to one and all, and live its beauty as your motto.
Celebrate the Solstice and the returning of the Light.