Apropos of nothing, I enjoyed Bill Thompson’s “Editorial Notebook” entry in today’s Baltimore Sun. Mistletoe, a parasitic plant that grows high in trees, is declining in popularity as a holiday decoration:
Here’s what’s wrong with the world today: Not enough people are kissing underneath the mistletoe.
The festive use of the humble mistletoe dates to old European beliefs. Some ancient cultures vested the plant’s dark green leaves and waxy, cream-hued berries with mystical powers of good fortune and fertility, which probably ushered in the custom of couples bussing beneath a small sprig dangling from a doorway. The tradition used to be as much a part of Christmas celebrations in America as socks hung from the fireplace mantle or cookies and milk left out for the arrival of the jolly fat man.
When he was younger, Mr. Molock says, he’d scramble up a tree to fetch mistletoe. He doesn’t climb much anymore and relies on friends or a long pole to knock the boughs loose. It’s not hard to spot mistletoe. After the tree leaves fall in cold weather, it stands out against the background of the sky. Most of the clumps growing in Dorchester are about the size of a softball, but there are many so big that they could easily fill a bushel basket. The one method Mr. Molock never used to harvest mistletoe is by shooting it down with a shotgun. That’s still the preference for most folks around Dorchester. Mistletoe is a parasite and often grows high in trees - easily 30 or 40 feet above the ground - because that’s where birds deposit the seeds. A practical man, Mr. Molock says with authority that blasting away at mistletoe can knock off the berries. And you can’t sell mistletoe if it doesn’t have the berries.
Read the rest of Mr. Thompson’s essay here.