Oh by gosh, by golly...

Walking the dogs this afternoon was almost a pleasure. This El Nino kicking in is something I can live with.

I'm not sure if it's just that I was late getting to the party or if there's some sort of national shortage of holly. The local florist had none the other day, but then they almost never do. I tried Trader Joe's in St. Paul and their holly-labeled bucket was empty. Next on the list was Bachman's in White Bear Lake. They had some, but only as part of a swag of mixed greens. I was hoping for a source of holly branches, so we could have a bouquet like last year's.

Photo by J. Harrington

Strictly out of luck. I'd feel worse about it but the red berries, which I love to see, were fake on last year's branches. I wonder if global warming will make Minnesota holly territory. Depends on how much carbon we keep dumping into the atmosphere, I suppose. Sort of like the number of times you could guess Henry used this poem he wrote(?) about holly. (I know, I know, snark isn't Christmassy.)

Green Groweth the Holly

By Henry VIII, King of England 

Green groweth the holly,

So doth the ivy.

Though winter blasts blow never so high,

Green groweth the holly.

As the holly groweth green

And never changeth hue,

So I am, ever hath been,

Unto my lady true.

As the holly groweth green

With ivy all alone

When flowers cannot be seen

And greenwood leaves be gone,

Now unto my lady

Promise to her I make,

From all other only

To her I me betake.

Adieu, mine own lady,

Adieu, my special

Who hath my heart truly

Be sure, and ever shall. 

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