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THE MISTLETOE BOUGH

Christmas is the time of the year when, once again, the Holly and the Ivy come into their own. The carol has grown in popularity over the years and during the Christmas period you will hear it every day somewhere or other, on the wireless, in the supermarket and of course, in the churches.

Mistletoe on the other hand takes a poor third place, hanging in meagre bunches beside mountains of Christmas trees and piles of sharp holly in the Christmas markets.

True, a small twig of this magical stuff gives a man license to kiss his neighbour’s wife or the pretty secretary he’s had his eye on for the last six months but there its influence ends. It finishes its short-lived glory hanging from the ceiling with the shrinking balloons, becoming dried and brown with tobacco smoke. But it was not always like this.

Pliny, the Greek philosopher, wrote that “The Druids.... esteem nothing more sacred than the mistletoe and the tree on which it grows, provided that tree is an oak.”

Mistletoe has always been comparatively rare and as a parasite it grows on any tree a berry eating bird may land on and deposit the seed in the folds of the bark. In this country it seems to favour the apple tree.

Because the plant has no direct root system to the soil it was treated with ‘reverence by ancient peoples who believed that it was indestructible by either fire or water.

The Druids cut it with a golden sickle and it fell into a white sheet held beneath the tree. Two white bulls were then sacrificed to give thanks to God.

Oak mistletoe, gathered on the first day of the moon with a golden knife was said to cure epilepsy, assist women to conceive and was a cure for ulcers. In Japan where the best Mistletoe was thought to grow on the willow it was cut into small pieces and scattered on the land to ensure fertility for the crops. In Italy, France, Switzerland, parts of Africa, in Scandinavia and here in the United Kingdom the age-old beliefs about this magical plant are similar and sometimes identical. It must not be cut with an iron blade but shot off the tree with an arrow or knocked off with stones. When severed from its host it must not fall onto the ground but should be caught as it fell. As recently as the last century the Welsh people believed that for it to have any power it should be harvested in this manner.

To ward off epilepsy German children wore a piece of mistletoe suspended around their neck and the Swedes thought that a knife handle of the mistletoe wood would have the same effect.

When mistletoe was scarce Welsh farmers used to say, “No mistletoe, no luck.” On the other hand, a good crop meant a good harvest to follow.

It will be seen from all this that nothing but good came from this parasitical growth and when, this Christmas, you kiss or are kissed under the Mistletoe, you are perpetuating an age-old belief in this kindest of all plants.