Except for the Winter Solstice times given below, and some new images, this post is the same one posted on 12/20/04.
The countdown continues:
five more days –
Wood for Xmas
part 2
Mistletoe doesn’t grow in our part of Alaska. Nor do we have
Spanish moss or any of the other more romantic-looking parasitic plants.
The most common parasites on our trees are polypores, interesting
enough in themselves I suppose. They serve some of our local folk
artists as “canvas” for paintings to sell to tourists, anyway.
However, when Doug and I were in the U.S. Southwest on our Big Field
Trip, I was delighted when I started seeing clumps of mistletoe in the
oak trees.
During the month or so that we spent at a long-term campsite south of
Quartzsite, AZ, the best bonus from the windstorm that destroyed our
tent (while we were in it) was that it blew down some branches with
mistletoe on them. I’m not, since I grew up, a tree-climbing
animal, and am the sort of mother who wouldn’t send her kid on a
frivolous mission that might result in broken bones. Thanks to
the wind, I had some mistletoe to bring back to Alaska. That was
ten years ago, and just recently I found some dried twigs of it among
my craft supplies. It was a pleasant reminder of our trip, and of
the plant’s sacred symbolism.
MISTLETOE
The origin of the word, “mistletoe” is every bit as complex and obscure
as the botany and folklore surrounding the mistletoe plants. The word
originated from the perception in pre-scientific Europe that mistletoe
plants sprang spontaneously from the excrement of the “mistel” (or
“missel”) thrush. People noticed that mistletoe plants would often
appear on a twig where these birds had left their excrement. The “-toe”
suffix was originally “tan” and meant “twig”. Mistle-toe, then, is
literally the “twig of the mistel thrush.” Some scholars extend the
etymological dissection further, pointing out that the very name of the
mistel thrush seems to derive from an Indo-European root for excrement;
thus they argue that mistletoe plant is literally the “dung twig.” Not
exactly a word origin in keeping with the romantic reputation of
mistletoe plants!
While belief in spontaneous generation has
long been discredited, the word origin of “mistletoe” is not as
fanciful as one might at first think. We now know, in fact, that the
seeds of European mistletoe plants germinate only after being digested
and passed by birds. And that the berry of mistletoe plants is a
favorite treat of the mistel thrush has also been confirmed. So while
their reasoning was somewhat askew, the old-timers were justified,
after all, in naming mistletoe plants after the bird most responsible
for its dissemination.
As might be expected from a plant that
has held people’s fascination for so long, mistletoe plant has also
carved out a niche of fame for itself in literary annals. Two of the
better-known books of the Western tradition feature a particular
mistletoe shrub prominently — a mistletoe shrub given the pseudonym of
“golden bough.” And herein lies yet another twist in the tale of this
remarkable plant.
In Virgil’s “Aeneid,” perhaps the most famous book in classical Latin
literature and one of the most famous poems of all time, the Roman
hero, Aeneas, makes use of this “golden bough” at a critical juncture
of the book. The “golden bough” was to be found on a special tree in
the grove sacred to Diana, at Nemi; a tree containing a mistletoe
plant. The prophetess Sibyl instructed Aeneas to pluck this magic bough
before attempting his descent into the underworld. Sibyl knew that,
with the aid of such magic, Aeneas would be able to undertake the
perilous venture with confidence. Two doves guide Aeneas to the grove
and alight upon the tree, “from which shone a flickering gleam of gold.
As in the woods in the cold winter the mistletoe — which puts out seed
foreign to its tree — stays green with fresh leaves and twines its
yellow fruit about the boles; so the leafy gold seemed upon the shady
oak, so this gold rustled in the gentle breeze.” (“Aeneid” VI, 204-209.
For a larger sampling of the same Latin passage, see Globalnet’s
translation of Virgil’s mistletoe passage).
The title of Sir
James G. Frazer’s anthropological classic, “The Golden Bough” (1922),
derives from this very scene in Virgil’s Aeneid. But just how, you
might be asking, can something green like mistletoe plants become
associated with the color gold? According to Frazer, mistletoe could
become a “golden bough” because when the plants die and wither (even
evergreens eventually die, of course), mistletoe plants acquire a
golden hue. Fair enough. But once again, botany and folklore most
likely must be mingled to arrive at the full explanation.
The
perception of goldenness in the dried leaves of mistletoe plants was
probably influenced by the fact that, in the folklore of Europe, it was
thought that mistletoe plants in some cases are brought to earth when
lightning strikes a tree in a blaze of gold. And a fitting arrival it
would be, after all, for a plant whose home is half way between the
heavens and the earth.
Text above is from The History Channel.
The Danes who visited Cornwall in the 7th century brought with them their version of the winter solstice tale:
The god of light, joy, purity, beauty, innocence, and reconciliation.
Son of Odin and Frigg, he was loved by both gods and men and was
considered to be the best of the gods. He had a good character, was
friendly, wise and eloquent, although he had little power. His wife was
Nanna daughter of Nep, and their son was Forseti, the god of justice.
Balder’s hall was Breidablik (“broad splendor”).
Most of the stories about Balder concern his death. He had been
dreaming about his death, so Frigg extracted an oath from every
creature, object and force in nature (snakes, metals, diseases,
poisons, fire, etc.) that they would never harm Balder. All agreed that
none of their kind would ever hurt or assist in hurting Balder.
Thinking him invincible, the gods enjoyed themselves thereafter by
using Balder as a target for knife-throwing and archery.
The
malicious trickster, Loki, was jealous of Balder. He changed his
appearance and asked Frigg if there was absolutely nothing that could
harm the god of light. Frigg, suspecting nothing, answered that there
was just one thing: a small tree in the west that was called mistletoe.
She had thought it was too small to ask for an oath. Loki immediately
left for the west and returned with the mistletoe. He tricked Balder’s
blind twin brother Hod into throwing a mistletoe fig (dart) at Balder.
Not knowing what he did, Hod threw the fig, guided by Loki’s aim.
Pierced through the heart, Balder fell dead.
While the gods were lamenting Balder’s death, Odin sent his other son
Hermod to Hel, the goddess of death, to plead for Balder’s return. Hel
agreed to send Balder back to the land of the living on one condition:
everything in the world, dead or alive, must weep for him. And
everything wept, except for Loki, who had disguised himself as the
witch Thokk. And so Balder had to remain in the underworld.
The others took the dead god, dressed him in crimson cloth, and placed
him on a funeral pyre aboard his ship Ringhorn, which passed for the
largest in the world. Beside him they lay the body of his wife Nanna,
who had died of a broken heart. Balder’s horse and his treasures were
also placed on the ship. The pyre was set on fire and the ship was sent
to sea by the giantess Hyrrokin.
Loki did not escape punishment for his crime and Hod was put to death
by Vali, son of Odin and Rind. Vali had been born for just that
purpose. After the final conflict (Ragnarok), when a new world arises
from its ashes, both Balder and Hod will be reborn.
Mistletoe became an early version of the peace pipe: When enemies meet
under mistletoe in the forest, they have to lay down their arms and
observe a truce until the next day.
The Holly
and the Ivy
Tinne (CHIN-yuh), holly – The holly (Ilex aquifolium L.) is a shrub
growing to 35 feet in open woodlands and along clearings in forests.
Hollies are evergreen, and stand out in winter among the bare branches
of the deciduous forest trees that surround them. Hollies form red
berries before Samhain which last until the birds finish eating them,
often after Imbolc. The typical “holly leaf” is found on smaller
plants, but toward the tops of taller plants the leaves have fewer
spiny teeth. Hollies are members of the Holly family (Aquifoliaceae).
The common holly is often cultivated in North America, as are hybrids
between it and Asiatic holly species.
Graves (1966) and others are of the opinion that the original tinne was
not the holly, but rather the holm oak, or holly oak (Quercus ilex L.).
This is an evergreen oak of southern Europe that grows as a shrub, or
as a tree to 80 feet. Like the holly, the holm oak has spiny-edged
leaves on young growth. It does not have red berries, but it does have
red leaf “galls” caused by the kermes scale insect; these are the
source of natural scarlet dye.
Gort (GORT), ivy – Ivy (Hedera helix L.) is also a vine, growing to 100
feet long in beech woods and around human habitations, where it is
widely planted as a ground cover. Ivy produces greenish flowers before
Samhain on short, vertical shrubby branches. The leaves of these
flowering branches lack the characteristic lobes of the leaves of the
rest of the plant. Like holly, ivy is evergreen, its dark green leaves
striking in the bare forests of midwinter. Ivy is widely cultivated and
is a member of the Ginseng family (Araliaceae).
The ancient festival of Yule celebrated the winter solstice. This is the time
when the days are shortest and the nights longest and so it is not surprising
that fire and light defeating darkness play an important part of our yule
celebrations. One old custom is that of the yule log which had to be found, not
cut from the tree. The householders brought the log indoors on Christmas Eve.
They set it in the fireplace, where it burned throughout the Christmas
celebrations. In large houses they sometimes used a whole tree, with one end in
the fireplace and the rest sticking out into the room. As the twelve days of
Christmas passed the log was slowly fed into the fire.
This preChristian custom has now almost died out, but we still use candles in
decoration.
(quoted from KIDS ARK)
Norway is the birthplace of the Yule log. The ancient Norse used the
Yule log in their celebration of the return of the sun at winter
solstice. “Yule” came from the Norse word hweol, meaning wheel. The
Norse believed that the sun was a great wheel of fire that rolled
towards and then away from the earth. Ever wonder why the family
fireplace is such a central part of the typical Christmas scene? This
tradition dates back to the Norse Yule log. It is probably also
responsible for the popularity of log-shaped cheese, cakes, and
desserts during the holidays.
In 1828, the American minister to Mexico, Joel R. Poinsett,
brought a red-and-green plant from Mexico to America. As its coloring
seemed perfect for the new holiday, the plants, which were called
poinsettias after Poinsett, began appearing in greenhouses as early as
1830. In 1870, New York stores began to sell them at Christmas. By
1900, they were a universal symbol of the holiday.
This night will be the longest night of the year for the Northern Hemisphere. I’m ready for
this, let me tell you! For the last few weeks, the sun hasn’t
gotten above the treetops in the forest south of our house. It
rose in the east and set in the west at the Equinox as it does for the
rest of the planet. But at this time of the year here, it rises in
the south, just a little way, gives us some wan light but almost no heat,
and then sets again a few hours later, still in the south, only a little bit farther
west.
Six months from now, it will be setting around eleven at night, to the
north. It will remain below the horizon only briefly, before it
rises again in the north to remain high in the heavens all day. I
can hardly wait. Being a fair skinned redhead, I was never a sun
worshipper in my youth. Living in Alaska has made a sun
worshipper of me now, because even when the sun is at its highest in
the summer, there is enough atmosphere between it and my fair skin that
I don’t get sunburned.
The precise moment of the solstice is about twenty minutes (methods of calculation vary by up to a quarter hour or so) past midnight Universal Time, Friday December 22, 2006. That is 7:20 P.M. Xanga time (EST ) Thursday the twenty-first and 3:20 PM Alaska time – and then the days again begin
getting longer. This is the longest night of the year!
The darkening is almost done. The light will return. I just
wish I could share the warmth that spreads through
my heart and soul at that thought. Merrie Yule, y’all!
I posted
on Saturnalia in 2003, and this post from 2004 was edited and reposted in 2005, and now it’s back again with some minor changes.
UPDATE,
in response to this comment from merrow_mistral:
I am surprised that in Alaska, you will
get a few hours of sun at the longest night of the year. I
thought it was going to be 24 hour darkness on the winter solstice.
Alaska is a big place, three times as big as Texas, and the borough
where we live is bigger than the state of Pennsylvania. We live
at 62 degrees north latitude, and the sun rises briefly on the winter
solstice and sets briefly on the summer solstice. Above the
Arctic Circle it doesn’t. In Barrow, for example the sun went
down in November and won’t come up until February.
And in response to this from soul_survivor:
..okay, but why do we kiss under the mistletoe? Did I totally miss that here somewhere?
Tracing the history of kissing under the mistletoe means going back to
ancient Scandinavia — to custom and the Norse myths: “It was also the
plant of peace in Scandinavian antiquity. If enemies met by chance
beneath it in a forest, they laid down their arms and maintained a
truce until the next day.” This ancient Scandinavian custom led to the
tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. But this tradition went
hand-in-hand with one of the Norse myths, namely, the myth of
Baldur. Baldur’s death and resurrection is one of the most
fascinating Norse myths and stands at the beginning of the history of
mistletoe as a “kissing” plant.
Loki tricked one of the other gods into killing Baldur with a spear
fashioned from mistletoe. The demise of Baldur, a vegetation deity in
the Norse myths, brought winter into the world, although the gods did
eventually restore Baldur to life. After which Frigga pronounced the
mistletoe sacred, ordering that from now on it should bring love rather
than death into the world. Happily complying with Frigga’s wishes, any
two people passing under the plant from now on would celebrate Baldur’s
resurrection by kissing under the mistletoe.
The Christmas custom of kissing underneath a branch of mistletoe goes
back hundreds of years, certainly to the early 17th century.
Strictly speaking, kissing under the mistletoe was never to get out of
hand, and often nearly did. To prevent abuses, the custom was defined
as a man might steal a kiss under the hanging branch, but when he did,
one berry was to be plucked from the plant and discarded. Once the
berries were gone, the kissing charm of the mistletoe branch was spent,
although that aspect of the custom is rarely recalled in these days.
During the 19th century abuses of the kissing custom were prevalent,
according to a verse written and called “The Mistletoe Bough.”
Interestingly, during uptight Victorian times, the custom came into
full bloom!
The Mistletoe Bough
by Thomas Haynes Bayley
The mistletoe hung in the castle hall,
The holly branch shone on the old oak wall;
And the baron’s retainers were blithe and gay,
And keeping their Christmas holiday.
The baron beheld with a father’s pride
His beautiful child, young Lovell’s bride;
While she with her bright eyes seemed to be
The star of the goodly company.
‘I’m weary of dancing now,” she cried;
“Here, tarry a moment-I’ll hide, I’ll hide!
And, Lovell, be sure thou’rt first to trace
The clew to my secret lurking place.”
Away she ran-and her friends began
Each tower to search, and each nook to scan;
And young Lovell cried, “O, where dost thou hide?
I’m lonesome without thee, my own dear bride.”
They sought her that night, and they sought her next day,
And they sought her in vain while a week passed away;
In the highest, the lowest, the loneliest spot,
Young Lovell sought wildly-but found her not.
And years flew by, and their grief at last
Was told as a sorrowful tale long past;
And when Lovell appeared the children cried,
“See! the old man weeps for his fairy bride.”
At length an oak chest, that had long lain hid,
Was found in the castle-they raised the lid,
And a skeleton form lay moldering there
In the bridal wreath of that lady fair!
0, sad was her fate!-in sportive jest
She hid from her lord in the old oak chest.
It closed with a spring!-and, dreadful doom,
The bride lay clasped in her living tomb!
Santa Claus has been evolving for more than the seventeen centuries or so since the life of the Catholic saint whose name has been corrupted and attached to this “right jolly old elf.” As we know him today, his story is an agglomeration of myths about the legendary gift-givers of several cultures.
Some would say that the CocaCola ads have given us our current image of Santa. 
Part of the myth of Grandfather Frost is
May, drawing in part on the tale of The Ugly Duckling and his own
Legend has it that Martin Luther began the tradition of decorating trees to celebrate Christmas. One crisp Christmas Eve, about the year 1500, he was walking through snow-covered woods and was struck by the beauty of a group of small evergreens. Their branches, dusted with snow, shimmered in the moonlight. When he got home, he set up a little fir tree indoors so he could share this story with his children. He decorated it with candles, which he lighted in honor of Christ’s birth.
But the custom spread slowly. The Puritans banned Christmas in New England. Even as late as 1851. A Cleveland minister nearly lost his job because he allowed a tree in his church. Schools in Boston stayed open on Christmas Day through 1870, and sometimes expelled students who stayed home.
The first time a Christmas tree was lit by electricity was in 1882 in New York. Edward Johnson, a colleague of Thomas Edison, lit a Christmas tree with a string of 80 small electric light bulbs which he had made himself. These strings of lights began to be produced commercially around 1890. One of the first electrically lit Christmas trees was erected in Westmount, Quebec in 1896. In 1900, some large stores put up large illuminated trees to attract customers.
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