When she was a teenager, my youngest daughter used to collect the screw-tops from bottles of Snapple drink because they had interesting facts printed on the underside of the lids. Example: The average person spends two weeks of their lives kissing.
If one were to plot a graph of a population's kissing minutes by days of the year, there would be two statistical peaks: one in mid-February (Valentine's Day) and a much bigger one in late December (around Christmas time). But what's the origin of this seasonal custom and why does mistletoe feature? You'll be delighted to hear that I'm going to kiss-and-tell.
All species of mistletoe are toxic to a degree for human beings, though rarely fatal. Blurred vision, diarrhoea and nausea are the commonest reactions to ingestion, though seizures and cardiac arrests have been recorded.
Mistletoe first. It's a parasitic plant growing on a shrub or tree, drawing the water and nutrients it needs from its host via a structure called the haustorium. Viscum album, to give its Latin name, is widespread across the UK and Europe. It has broad green leaves and white berries. There is also a rare, red-berried version, viscum cruciatum, found in southern parts of Portugal and Spain and in Morocco. The derivation of the word is somewhat obscure but is believed to be Proto-Indo-European in origin with Old English addition, from me (with), sed (sit), and tan (twig): a twig that sits with (another). Mistletoe propagates via birds - like the mistle thrush below - who eat the drupes or berries and both excrete the seeds they contain onto another tree or wipe their sticky beaks on some virgin branch which soon becomes a new host.
Mistles |
The importance of mistletoe in pagan times was essentially religious, its white berries being regarded as a symbol of male fertility. The Ancient Greeks referred to it as "oak sperm", the Celts as "semen of Taranis" (god of thunder), the Romans revered it as a symbol of peace and love and hung it over doorways to protect the household. In Druidic mythology it seems to have served both as fertility symbol and as a medicine (for external use only).
In Christian times across the western world it has become incorporated (like yuletide) as a symbol of regeneration into our Christmas rituals, denoting fecundity and friendship, though the habit of kissing under it appears to be quite recent (late 18th century). It gave licence during the festivities around the winter solstice for men to beg kisses of any woman standing under the mistletoe, and bad luck was said to befall a woman who refused. (Unpick the socio-political implications of that one.)
And why the winter solstice rather than the summer one (which also has a wealth of fertility lore associated with it)? Probably simply because mistletoe is more noticeable and much easier to harvest once the leaves have fallen from the (mostly deciduous) host trees. The mistletoe that is sold in our markets and shops in the lead-up to Christmas is harvested in late November and early December. The centre of the trade in the UK is at Tenbury Wells in Worcestershire which hosts a mistletoe festival and crowns a mistletoe queen each year.
This latest composition, a love poem of sorts, commemorates a real incident in my past life, on the morning of the winter solstice back in 1975, when I was a student at Exeter University (completing my Postgraduate Certificate of Education). Haldon as mentioned in the poem is Haldon Forest (south of Exeter and just inland from Dawlish), home to red oaks, lots of mistletoe and myriad birds including blackbirds, jays, nightjars and of course mistle thrushes. This may not be its final form as I'll probably tinker with parts until I feel I've done the memory justice.
Mistletoes*
Hand in hand in Haldon woods
we footed close through frosty ferns,
rudely startled blackbirds in our wake.
You a copper-haired daughter of Taranis
cutely duffled against the snap
of winter solstice chill,
me more of the long-haired berserker,
our twin breaths visibly mingling
in still hanging dawn mist
with not a hint of wind beneath
those querky oaks with shaggy shocks
of parasitic growths, just the thrilling sight
of thrushes overhead at first light
making breakfast on white berries.
We paused to gaze in wonder, then
you rose on mistletoes and we kissed
(I don't know whether you shut your eyes
I certainly closed mine, the nearest
I've ever come to a swoon) for minutes
until the turning earth stood still
beneath the rising sun or so it seemed,
then spun again.
You named me your Viking lord
and I hailed you my Celtic queen,
a solemn, sacramental moment
at the time, though slightly absurd I suppose
for you had a husband waiting at home
and I a train to catch to London at noon,
the first of many Christmases
we never spent together.
* for Hazel, wherever she may be.
Thanks for reading, S ;-)
65 comments:
Very festive. Merry Christmas and thanks for all the great blogs.
Those times! All so young. Merry Christmas.
Oh dear, we forgot to buy any this year. Great poem.
Merry Christmas Steve. Loved the blog and poem. 👏
Mistletoes! Loved that. ❤️
Merry Christmas. Man, I wish I had your memory. Not that specific one, obviously, but the capacity to recall so much in such detail. Wishing you 3 points on the road (you need them) and we're driving across to Luton for the evening KO.
Oak sperm - such a great name. Well done the ancient Greeks. I never knew mistletoe represented peace and love in Roman times. Seems like every home should have some hanging up. Well done with the pagan love poem. 👏
A pagan is just not for Christmas!
Most interesting. I suppose the kissing convention relates somehow to days of misrule that are linked to solstice festivities down the ages. Your poem is very atmospheric.
Sending kisses xx (LOL). I loved the poem.
I loved your blog and 'Mistletoes' poem.
Your fascinating blog set me wondering why mistletoe is poisonous to humans (and other mammals) but not to mistle thrushes - so I went net surfing to try and find out. I learned that the Latin name for the mistle thrush is 'turdus viscivora' (mistletoe-eating thrush) and that blackcaps like the berries as well - but found no explanation as to why the birds are immune to the parasite's toxins. Very poor show, internet! Of course I loved your latest poem. What a romantic you are!
Our first year without mistletoe. I didn't see any. Is there a shortage?
Great detective work in finding out about the derivation of the word. I'd never have guessed that.
I can't remember the last time I saw a woman standing under a mistletoe.
Who would have thought that the centre of the trade is in Tenbury Wells. Who would have thought there was a centre.
What a lovely poem and such a twist at the end.
You must have been up early mate! 😉
If you couldn't get mistletoe, blame Brexit. A large percentage of it used to come from France - until two years ago.
Happy Christmas etc Steve. I bet fewer people have been randomly kissing under mistletoe since Covid. That's a nicely atmospheric poem with a clever twist.
Season's greetings to you and yours as well. If I recall correctly you've written about this lady from your student days before (a white witch?). I enjoyed the poem and "you rose on mistletoes" is a lovely touch.
I didn't know the fertility angle. That's interesting. It's a beautiful photograph of the mistle thrush and a lovely poem.
Australia has its own native mistletoe. Its fruit is red but I don't know if it's in any way related to the Spanish/Moroccan variety you mentioned. We also have our own mistletoe eating/propagating bird called a Flowerpecker, but koalas, possums and sugar-gliders also eat the flowers and leaves without any obvious difficulties! I loved your Mistletoes poem. Happy New Year.
As a Viking, you'll be familiar with the role of mistletoe in Norse folklore? I enjoyed this post and what another comment named your 'pagan love poem'. Keep the blogs coming Steve.
Red mistletoe sounds interesting. I loved your sweet poem. Happy New Year.
Top blogging Steve, kissing peaks, sticky beaks and pagan poetry. Happy New Year and thanks for all your posts.
Excellent read Steve. Happy New Year.
Oh Steve that's such a lovely poem. x
Two weeks? Assuming an average time for a kiss of one minute (some are longer of course, many are shorter) that's over 20,000 kisses. That's one hell of a lot. Just saying.
Another lovely blog and poem, always a treat to read. Your 'kissograph' made me smile. Clearly the hubby and I are not doing as much kissing as we should between the peaks! Happy New Year to you.
I loved the poem! I know Haldon Forest, it's a lot more commercialised than it probably was when you lived in these parts.
What an invigourating poem and engaging blog to read òn a cold morning!
It's a it's a again Steve, with lots of pause for thought, thank you!
IIRC you've written about that Hazel before. Interesting about mistletoe (we didn't get any this time) and a lovely poem. Happy New Year and thank you for all the fab blogs. Not that Hazel :)
Happy New Year Steve! I remember Hazel, and I remember the gossip, but never knew what you were up to. How romantic that you still recall walking and kissing in the woods.
I loved your seasonal blog, fascinating to know there is a mistletoe 'industry' with a Mistletoe Queen. The photograph of the mistle thrush is beautiful and so is your atmospheric Mistletoes poem. 💚
We've actually been to the Tenbury Wells mistletoe festival. It's not that far from us and it's a fairly recent phenomenon (within the last 15-20 years), not from ages past. I enjoyed your blog (with its oak sperm and semen of Taranis) and latest poem. I did wonder about "querky" oaks (not quirky) but then remembered quercus is Latin for oak and looked up querky - choked or throttled - and it reinforced what I already knew: you are too clever by half! 😉
Happy New Year. Drop by if you are ever in these pagan parts.
Great blog and poetry.
A lovely blog and a beautiful romantic poem. Happy New Year. ❤️
Happy New Year. I enjoyed your mistletoe blog and magical Mistletoes poem. You must have been up very early that day. There are some lovely lines in there (cutely duffled against the snap of winter solstice chill, until the turning earth stood still beneath the rising sun, the first of many Christmases we never spent together). I love it.
Nice one! I think kissing under the mistletoe harks back to Saturnalia (Roman solstice festival).
Super seasonal blogging Steve. 👍
I loved the poem and I think you get extra festive points for kissing under mistletoe that was still attached to its tree!
Happy New Year. A great blog and a lovely poem. What a romantic idea to go and catch the midwinter sunrise with your lover in the woods.
Beautifully written.
Well kissed, well told. A lovely poem. ❤️
Red mistletoe? That's fascinating. Great poem Steve. Happy New Year.
Atmospheric poem, loved the youthful romance and the unexpected ending.
Excellent seasonal blogging. Great poem (clever title, charming story, great lines, surprising ending).👏
The romance of youth. What a memory and a delightful poem.
Enjoyed your blog Steve and belated HNY. Do you suppose the Mistletoe Queen has to be a good kisser? Well done with the atmospheric solstice poem.
Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without mistletoe and kisses. It's a tradition to be enjoyed. I really liked your poem. Peace and love. xx
My kids had a bit of a thing for Snapple as well. I loved your blog and especially your poem. Sad to say if it wasn't for mistletoe at Christmas I'd never get kissed at all these days!
Good one Steve. In praise of parasites (LOL). Happy New Year.
I enjoyed your blog, its youthful poetic memoir and I love the photograph. It all made me wonder why the Mistle Thrush (as opposed to other birds) came to be so closely identified with mistletoe. Thanks for the prompt to do some research. 👍
What a great read.
I remember your long-haired berserking days.
I didn't actually know the whole story about kissing under mistletoe but peace, love and fertility sounds good. Imagine the social stigma though for any girl who didn't get asked for a kiss.
What an evocative poem.
Thanks Steve. This was a great read, I love the photo of the thrush with the berry in its beak, and I really like your poem, so romantic.
We have flowerpeckers that eat mistletoe here. Red breast and red berries where yours are all white or pale. That's a beaut of a poem.
"you rose on mistletoes and we kissed" is inspired, a great line from a lovely poem.
We went to the mistletoe festival in Tenbury Wells a few years ago (before Covid). It was quite fun. I loved your poem.
Pagans rule! 💚
What a beautifully atmospheric and romantic poem. To kiss under mistletoe growing on a tree is quite something. I loved the surprise ending as well, it made me sigh!
What a lovely seasonal blog. It never occurred to me there might be a 'mistletoe trade' but of course how else would we get our sprigs for Christmas? Mistletoes is such a lovely poem. I particularly liked "cutely duffled" and of course the surprise ending.
A treat to read. It's such a lovely poem. Thanks for sharing - I'm just catching up on everything.
I never knew there is red mistletoe. This was fascinating and the poem is beautiful.
A great read (missed it at Christmas). I love your poetry.
Fascinating. Astonished to learn of red mistletoe. I loved your pagan love poem to bits.
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