"Mistletoe, The Plant I Can't Grow"

"It just won't grow for me," he said of mistletoe

"It just won't grow for me," he said of mistletoe. "I've tried year after year for more than a decade, and nothing ever appears." He says he has followed all the instructions in what should be an authoritative source - The Field Book of Country Queries. He has hung twigs of the plant, complete with berries, in a paper bag in cool, dryish, but frost-proof conditions, as laid down, until the seeds in their sticky coating can be planted out in mild spring weather. He has pressed the seeds, as instructed, into the underside of a branch of a host tree, making a small nick to secure it, or even cutting a flap of bark and then laying it back over the seeds again. The pulp, being very sticky, holds the seeds well in position.

It is stated in this manual that while various trees will harbour mistletoe, apple and thorn have a particularly good record. The seed spends the first year rooting in the new host tree; in the third year you should expect to see a pair of leaves, while at four years branches appear. "Not a sign of life at all in my case," says our friend. A second book of queries from the Field widens the selection of host trees to include poplar, lime, maple, rowan, sorbus, Scots pine, cedar and even horse chestnut, "but it is rare on oak."

It adds the complicating factor that there are at least three physiological strains or races and sub-races of mistletoe, apparently needing different hosts. Richard Mabey, whose book Flora Britannica Michael Viney quoted last Saturday, extends the range to japonica, walnut, cotoneaster, laburnum and almond. Amelanchier to add to the confusion. And while oak is generally ruled out, apparently turkey oak has been found sprouting the guest mistletoe. "Anyway," says our friend, "I may as well go on trying. It is the one plant that has thoroughly defeated me so far."

Mistletoe has a history of sexual associations beyond the kissing. It was believed to be an aphrodisiac. It is not to be swallowed, but women who wished to conceive, according to Mabey, would take a sprig and tie it around wrist or waist. Medicinal properties were also attributed to it. Back to our luckless friend. So far he has worked only on apple and thorn. Now he has about a dozen other host trees to work on. To what purpose? "Just for the hell of it," he says.