Mistletoe Saga continued

Some years ago I wrote my first blog on Mistletoe, that magical mysterious and idiosyncratic parasitic plant. It was about how I tried, since childhood, to establish mistletoe on apple trees - and always failed in my endeavours.

Around the year 2000 my son, Pete, gave us an apple tree in a pot to adorn our London garden. Even though the tree was a small one (some 6' tall and slim), it did give me yet another chance to attain my goal of having live mistletoe in the garden and evergreen stems and leaves to look at in the wintertime, not to mention the decorative white berries.

2008.  This was the year when I started by harvesting sticky fresh berries from a Christmas bunch of mistletoe and pressing them into the junctures of trunk and spur. I used several methods to secure them and protect them from being bird food (even though there are no mistle thrushes in my part of London). I waited for the following summer and  autumn to see if any had "taken". None had.

2009.  I tried again. Still no luck (or was it lack of skills?). I let the matter rest.

2010.  I was passing a skip of rubbish and noticed that on it was a bunch of dried mistletoe left over from someone's Christmas festivities. There were plenty of berry seeds still adhering to its branches, but they were shrivelled and brown. Why not try again? Perhaps these dry seeds might take when the sticky white ones had failed? I would have another shot.

Soon after discovering these seeds on the skip I tied some to the base of apple tree spurs with string - sometimes on dry bark, others on cut bark, and lastly in bark lifted to have a seed inserted beneath the bark (as best I could). As the string was white and unsightly, I coated it with rubber solution (Copydex) and on it rubbed earth. The result made my "plantings" almost invisible. 2011 came and went, as did 2012. I had obviously failed once more. I lost enthusiasm for the project and decided to give up. BUT...

2013.  Three small mistletoe sproutings appeared from the bark - high up and about two inches from where I had planted the seed three years earlier. It was a Champagne moment. Success at last. But it was the only one from many "plantings".

2014.  Another sprout appeared - this time half way up the pillar-shaped tree. 

2015.  And yet another sprout pushed through the bark - this time near the bottom of the small apple tree.

Although all three parasite successes grew well on the moisture running up beneath the bark of their host tree, there was not a sigh of a berry. The bunches must, then, all be male. This was a disappointment.

2019.  Two berries appeared on the lowest bunch. We had one female. But no berries at all formed during the following year (2020).

2021.  In the late summer, and for the first time, a few berries appeared on the topmost and most vigorous bunch. Had this bunch suddenly changed sex, or just been reluctant to come out?

What on earth was happening to this parasite's temperamental lifestyle? Does its decision-making and sexuality have any pattern at all? Or is it just being in line with humanity's present-day gender-bending, intersex confusion?

Autumn 2021 Update

Having written recently a blog on the extraordinary lifestyle of our mistletoe, I will not repeat it. But since I established mistletoe on an apple tree in a pot some years ago, it has been the focus of our attention with its absurdly unconventional lifestyle. Its life and habits continue to astound us.

To reinvigorate the soil where our runner beans had been planted in 2020, I bought a packet of Charlotte potatoes in the spring from a supermarket, chitted them on a windowsill in the kitchen, and planted them beside flagstones in the only exposed soil we have in the form of a strip beneath a garden wall. They have provided us with melted butter, salt and chopped mint.

Our mainly Triomphe d'Alsace vines in the arbour gave us cooling shade in the hotter spells during the summer and a dozen bottles worth of very dry red wine when bottled from demijohns in the spring of 2022. 

Our ancient (40 years possibly) bay tree in a pot has been pruned to become an umbrella bay tree and seems to love its new configuration of showing off its decorative branch construction.

The other bay tree in a pot, which was given to us by a lady of religious persuasion who died, has turned into a ball shape from its previous pointer to heaven form.

Flowers, especially Impatiens and New Guineas, have given us red colours throughout the summer, augmented by pots of black and white pelargoniums. 

Self-sown Morning Glories flourish, but our many pantings of it by plant and seed in a local square failed, due possibly by being trampled on by children and dogs. 

Our Flowering Quince (Chaenomeles) lost its leaves and played dead, but has now grown them back again. Hopefully, it will still come into autumn flower.

In the bird world, great tits brought up two broods successfully in their usual home on the house.

Structurally, I have repaired our hardwood garden bench and varnished it. And the marble-topped garden table has been given new rubber ferrules as feet.

A huge change has been the demise and then destruction on my over-life-size elm wood lovers. After many attempts to make the sculpture weatherproof, it sank slowly as its base rotted - due to fungus, mice and insects. I managed to actually pull it apart by hand and hammer before calling the Council to cart away the bits. It had given much pleasure and an object of conversation over the years. It has now returned to nature.

And nature begins to close down our garden for the year.