It was on the 19th of April 2013 when I roared
into the house to tell Margreet the great news. What great news?
Earlier I
had been watering the garden and, in the kitchen, planting Gardeners’ Delight
tomato seedlings into individual pots for summer growing outside.
But I had
just witnessed something outside that, as a keen gardener, I had tried to do,
but never – ever – managed before – something that I had been attempting for
most of my life.
I was
crying with joy. And as I entered the house, Margreet was astounded to see this
grown man cry so copiously – with joy. I had done it at last. I had grown
mistletoe.
I am not
sure that one grows mistletoe at all.
One plants the berries acquired from Christmas decoration in the junction of
apple tree spur and stem – in the vain hope of success.
Either the
seeds in their berries fall off, or are eaten by birds – which is rather
strange because the berry juice is so sticky that it has been used on branches
to catch birds for the pot.
Anyhow, for
quite a few years now I have tried to get this mythical parasite to take hold
in a host apple tree, growing in a pot, and given to me by my son, Pete –
with no success.
Over those
years I have tried just pressing the sticky berries into the joint of trunk and
spur. I have tried fresh berries and berries dried out over the Christmas
holiday (found shrivelled up on a rubbish skip). I have tried binding them in
with string. String, being unsightly, I have painted over it to match the apple
tree bark, and I have tied in berries and covered the unsuitable-looking
light-coloured string with rubber solution (Copydex) and rubbed soil over it
before it had set. The string binding for these experiments had, over time,
either rotted away or been cut off to prevent strangulation of the tree.
For the
last two years I had not taken up the challenge, firstly by forgetting to try,
and secondly because of the unavailability of the berries in the market. That
was it – failure and lost enthusiasm.
Then, about to enter the house on
that fateful day, and passing my two fruit trees in their early flowering
state, I looked at where I had sown berries on the potted pear tree (no
success) and then the pillar-shaped, Italian apple tree. And there, pointing
straight out of the apple’s bark, and several inches away from where I had
placed the seed, were three green sprouts – firm, erect, and one with two
typical mistletoe leaves (quite unlike apple leaves) at its point.
Having recovered from the initial
shock, and still with tears in my eyes, I telephoned my gardening expert
sister, who was as excited as I was to hear the news.
I would dearly like to recall
exactly which of my planting methods succeeded. But as I had not tried for two
years, at least it is now known that the gestation period must be at least 2
1/3 years.
How will this evergreen parasite
progress while feeding on a deciduous apple tree in a pot? We shall see.
Ancient lore tells that the crop
should be harvested at midnight on Christmas Eve and the result kept for a
year. But I am already thinking too far in advance.
The whole aura of this
fascinating Eurasian parasite is shrouded in myth and primitive lore.
How will it affect our lives?
What portents lie in store?
What magic will ensue?
What ancient rites does it now
need?
What life-changing spell will
descend on us with this given sign from ancient gods?
How exciting.
