As I was out and about this morning, a strange scent caught my attention. Since there was a slight easterly breeze, I followed the wafting aroma to find that the Paperwhite Narcissus were blooming. My thoughts immediately flowed to Mom and her love for these blossoms. She always stated that they were a sign that winter would not last forever. Well, in this case, winter has not even really showed its face so the blossoms are early. They seem to be a bit confused by our summer-like weather. While it is true that the blooms represent a "new birth" and "purity" with their snow white petals and easy to sprout bulbs, there is a far deeper legend that hides with the plant.
It seems that the name Narcissus comes from the Greek word for narcotic. It refers to the almost "addictive" (not really but ok) scent of the blossoms. It is also tied to a mythical young man by the same name. It seems that Narcissus was so very handsome that he could not help admiring his beauty whenever he had the chance. He would venture down to the lake to peer into the glassy waters where he eventually fell in love with his very own reflection. Then, he literally fell into the lake and drowned. (hmm?) Immediately, the Paperwhite Narcissus plants popped out of the ground and bloomed. Alrighty, then. This legend is how we came to use the word narcissistic when referring to someone who is self-obsessed.
All of this deal with Narcissus made me giggle when I saw an add for Paperwhite Narcissus this evening. "Great gift!" was how they touted the plant. While I would be more than happy to receive another plant, one has to wonder about the meaning behind such a gift. Is the plant given as a reminder of a new beginning or is there an ulterior motive saying "Hey, you are an egoist and need to change before it is too late"? I, personally, like the flowers simply because they usually bloom when nothing else in the gardens are and because Mom liked them.
~Did you know that there is a difference between an egoist and an egotist? Yep, both define characteristics that are similar but there is a big difference. An egotist is self absorbed but feels superior to others in some way. An egoist simply is preoccupied with his (her) self but does not necessarily feel above others. Now, aren't you glad I cleared up that for you?
Years ago, I was told that Native Americans (especially those southern tribes) viewed the Snowy Egret as a symbol of peace. Tribal elders who were the diplomats for their people would wear the egret feathers instead of the eagle feathers worn by warriors. It makes sense as the the eagle represented fierceness, strength and power but the calmness, grace and beauty of the egret spoke greatly of harmony. It was said that those who chose to be like the Snowy Egret could find the much sought after inner peace and harmony of the soul.
I observe the birds and other critters of the Bayou. It does seem to me that the legend attached to the Snowy Egret is fitting. Just watching the bird is calming in itself but I have yet to see a Snowy riled. Other shorebirds will squabble over food or roosting spots at times but the little Snowy seems to abhor conflict. It goes about its business quietly. They are not raucous like the gulls or even scrappy like their cousins the herons.
Snowy Egrets shuffle their feet through the shallows to stir up any minnows, shrimp or tiny crabs that are hiding beneath the water. They seem to work alone and do not even recognize or notice other egrets in the area. These birds are content with their solitude and only seek companionship during mating and nesting. Then they will nest in colonies to prevent predators from seeking out the single nest. Protecting the nest is the only time that Snowy Egrets become aggressive. In a colony, all of the birds help to protect the nests.
A juvenile Snowy (notice the greenish legs identifying this one as a youngster) fished for its breakfast near the pier the other morning. It never once seemed to mind that I was just a few feet from it as it snatched up baby shrimp out of the waves. As I watched it, I became fully aware of just how calm the bird is. Even its sweet face showed peace! What an ideal bird to symbol harmony. Love the Snowies!
There is a Coastal legend called "The Ring in the Oak". According to all that has been told, a Indian maiden from the Biloxi Tribe fell in love with a warrior from the neighboring Pascagoula Tribe. Since these were rivals, the Chief of the Biloxi Tribe refused to allow a marriage to take place. The young maiden begged so much that the Chief finally relented....a little bit. "When a ring grows in yon oak tree, you may marry." The story goes on to say that a terrible hurricane hit the area and when the winds subsided, lo and behold, a ring appeared in the tree. The Chief stood true to his word and allowed the marriage to take place. As odd as it may seem, to this day there is a ring in that very same oak tree. The tree has withstood all hurricanes even though it stands right near the beach. Also, as odd as it may seem, the legend has a few problems as the Biloxi Tribe and Pascagoula Tribe were not only allies but friends. Still, it makes for a good story and the tale has withstood the test of time just like the old oak tree. Tree experts have explained away the legend by declaring that the limb was damaged (split) by the storm and healed over to form a ring. Probably....but you will never be able to convince any die-hard believers that their tree was not a miracle performed in the defense of true love.
Late this afternoon, I was making my way back from the pier when I noticed our own "ring in the oak". My ring is not a true ring....yet. If the experts are correct, given a few hundred years, this ring will need a legend as well. Just like the "Ring in the Oak" tree, the oak tree here was bent and twisted during a hurricane. I first noticed the odd angle right after Hurricane Katrina. Let nature take its course and in time, the tree limbs will grow together and form an unusual ring. Mother Nature has a way of taking care of things.
I guess now that I mention it, I really need to get started creating a fantastic legend to attach to my tree! You know, it takes a while for legends to catch on with folks. Perhaps it will not be some sappy love story but a tale of endurance or perhaps something mystical or magical like the Bayou itself. That would be a fitting tale to give my tree!
Well, now that does not sound to very pleasant! Poop on a stick...ewww! Actually, that is the literal name of mistletoe. The word comes from the Anglo-Saxon word mistiltane which basically means dung on a twig. Yep, that stuff we kiss under come Christmastime has a lovely name, dung on a stick! All of this makes you wonder why? Why name a plant "poop on a stick"? Why kiss under something that sounds so disgusting? And most importantly, why am I writing all of this? Well, that is the whole point. We shall delve into this matter a bit further! Come on now, I know you are so excited!
First the reason I am loading your brain with the mystical lore of mistletoe is simply because a huge chunk of it fell from the oak tree next to the house. The strong winds of the recent cold front snapped a bundle of the plant from the limbs and plopped it right on the front steps. When I tried to let Ms. Ez, the Bayou Dog, out to do her business, the mound of mistletoe muddled her mind. She immediately started barking at the heap. "Oh, my! Something is amiss here, my friend!" she seemed to be saying. So, out in the rain I went to retrieve the massive hunk of mistletoe. She, then, happily trotted down the hillside leaving me to ponder the ways of the mistletoe legends.
The "poop on a stick" came about as I tried to explain to Michael how the stuff got its name. Once I told him the literal meaning of mistiltane, he dubbed the stuff "poop on a stick" and not dung on a twig. The name has several good reasons behind it, though. One the white berries do, indeed, look a lot like bird poop if squished. I suppose some old chap back in Old England might have seen this and told his child to watch out for the dung on the twig. (Makes sense, right?) Anyway, the more scientific reason is that the mistletoe berries are eaten by birds who then fly to rest on a branch. They digest their food and poop. If by chance a seed that has passed through the bird hits a branch and becomes lodged, a new plant forms. Hence, poop on a branch.
Why do we kiss under such a vile-named plant at Christmastime? Well, that goes a long way back as well. Those Anglo-Saxons were at it again. They tied the stuff to the legend of Freya, the goddess of love, beauty and fertility. If a maiden was found standing unawares under a sprig of mistletoe, a man had to kiss her. Later, it became a custom for couples to kiss under the stuff to declare their love for one another. During the holidays, each couple who kissed had to pick off a berry. Once the sprig was bare, NO MORE KISSES! After the holidays, the branch was burned to ensure the marriage of the couples. If a maiden went unkissed, she was bound to remain unwed for the next year. I can only imagine that the unkissed lass declared the stuff to be "just poop on a stick anyway!"
So, you see, this was all important! My huge mass of mistletoe, the regrettable name of said plant and the custom of embracing beneath a sprig of it, all were here just to let you know that the oak tree is full of the parasitic plant. Which in itself is pretty magical! According to legend, only the mistletoe that grows in oak trees has any power whatsoever! See! I do have a massive mound of magical, mystical mistletoe! (Not to be confused with poop on a stick!)
