"Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize that they were the big things."
—Robert Brault
Ginny Neil
The last oak leaves rattle in the wind as my sister, daughters-in-law and I tromp through the wind-blown grass of the meadow in search of a bit of winter color. We reach the path that winds through the woods and pause for selfies.
This is a tradition that began 36 years ago when I married My Own Farmer and moved to the farmhouse on the hill. Every Thanksgiving, after cleaning up the detritus of our meal, the women of the family go for a hike. We are headed to cut armloads of branches from the winterberries (Ilex verticellata) that dip their rooty toes in the rocky swamp below the hill.
Ginny Neil
The berries are showing off their scarlet “come-hither” blushes to more than humans. Birds scatter as we enter the swampy grove. In another week, the berries will be gone, eaten by the bluebirds, mockingbirds and blackbirds who are still hanging around. “SCHLUP! My foot slips off one of the tussocky humps of grass that are the only safe path through the muck, and I struggle to pull it out of the mud without losing my boot.
When we reach the winterberry grove, we take turns bending the slender branches down to be snipped. Soon, we have gathered enough stems for every mantle and every entrance. As we carry our treasure back to the house, I think about my mom, who for so many years was part of this grand gathering tradition. Even when her health declined, she would don her yellow wellies and follow us to the swamp.
Most of my haul will go in large urns outside my doorway because the wood stove that keeps my ancient farmhouse toasty is too hot and dry for live decorations. Everyone else takes the blankets and boxes they’ve brought along and stuffs the berried branches into vehicles. I am always surprised by how well the berries cling to their stems despite such rough treatment. The ones outside my door will last well into the early weeks of February if the birds don’t find them first. As pictures fly across the internet at Christmas time, I always relish seeing the cheery bunches the others have gathered adding beauty to each holiday celebration.
I have tried to grow winterberry in my yard. It can range from six to 16 feet high and requires moist, acidic soil and partial shade to full sun. With slightly arching stems and slender trunks, these plants look stunning planted in groups. This is perfect if you are growing them for their winter display, because you must have at least one male plant to enable fruiting.
In spite of three tries, I have not been able to establish it. That’s the way with plants. They like what they like and apparently they don’t like what I’ve offered, yet. The wet places outside my yard, where they might be happier, would also turn the winterberries into a snack bar for our cattle and sheep unless I fence them off, so I’ll have to continue to brave the swamp for now.
Meanwhile, each time I go in and out of my front door, those beautiful branches will remind me of rosy cheeks and laughter and boots buried in mud. Another thing to be thankful for in this slowing-down season of thanksgiving.
Ginny Neil
Tips for Growing Winterberry
- It grows best in zones 4-8.
- Plant at least one male for every four females.
- Look for the hybrid varieties if you want a smaller plant.
- Amend your soil with peat moss to bring the pH to between 3.5 and 6.0
- Plant it in the wettest part of your yard.
The story above first appeared in our Nov. / Dec. 2021 issue. For more like it subscribe today or log in with your active BRC+ Membership. Thank you for your support!