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'Twas the night before Christmas in our house. The plants were all in their places. All was well.
Plants defined the holidays of my youth. There was just a touch of horticultural competition between my father and grandfather and my uncle, but for the most part, the family simply loved growing plants, and the holidays were a great time for showing them off. Holidays were centered on plants. This time of year, the house was always full of poinsettias, forced in the hall closet where my Dad kept his good hat and his overcoat. It was a pretty extravagant display of plants. First, because they were expensive to buy and somewhat hard to find back then. Second, my father was color blind and couldn't even see the red bracts. Uncle Al and Grandpa would notice them, however when they came over for Christmas dinner. I think this is where some of the competition came in. I am pretty sure there were some last tomatoes on display more years than not, and these would end up in the salad. Again, a bit of gardening competition, it being December and all. Potatoes for the dinner would come from the garden as would brussels sprouts (never my favorite). The salad was always made with fresh lettuces grown in the well house cold frame. Again, a bit of this was Dad competing with his little brother and dad, but mostly, the family loved to grow things we could eat. We always had lots and lots of decorations made from holly. This was my grandfather's major holiday contribution, his brag along with the gourds. He hybridized holly plants as a hobby and sold them by the thousands as little, itty, bitty plants. Those that didn't sell turned into large, landscape hollies and were grow all over his property. They had really sharp prickers on the leaves. Boughs of them adorned all our houses during holidays. You never wanted to get too close, least a brother "accidentally" pushed you into one. Then there were the shellacked gourds I mentioned in my Thanksgiving column. I was always amazed at how Grandpa could grow such weird looking things. Ugly to the point of fascinating. I am sure my mother was thrilled to get another batch each year. Ugly and shellacked gourds last forever. Anything that could be forced into bloom in December was fair game. Jasmine, Christmas cacti, Amaryllis and related bulbs, even tulips and daffodils. The greenhouse was always full of blooming plants too, including orchids that would blossom in the middle of winter. My brothers and I sold evergreen Christmas wreaths to support Boy Scout Troop 23. Of course, Mom would always buy a few. Still, the evergreen tree was, uncharacteristically, fake. Its charm was that it was wrapped in an old New York Times reporting the explosion of the Hindenburg. Apparently there was a family cousin on board. I can't tell you if he survived, but the tree has; we have it and its wrapper here in Alaska. Presents were most often plant oriented as well. We didn't give ties in our family. Uncle Al would give everyone a special, Japanese designed, pruning knife. Someone would get bonsai scissors. Another would get a new dibble or trowel. The kids might get a plant or a packet of mimosa seeds. Even when we sat at the table, the whole extended family, plants would dominate. A large picture window separated Dad's greenhouse from the dining room. The youngest amongst those allowed to finally sit at the adult table had to lean up against the cool window. After years at the kiddie table, who would complain about a little cold? Those plants, the friendly competition and the genuine love of growing them defined my holidays. As Christmas approaches this year, I am hopeful that you and your children are developing similar memories of amaryllis, Christmas cactus, poinsettias and all the wonderful plants that surround us even here in Alaska during the darkest days of the year.