The reality of things is often unromantic, but no less wondrous somehow I think. Mistletoe, that comely green sprig adorning many of our doorways these days to sanction the holiday smooch, has a pretty amazing if slightly scatalogical back story. It's actually a parasite on trees here in the southwest, though rarely a very destructive one. It has beautiful, translucent white berries that birds nourish themselves with. The plant, looking out for itself, happily produces these lovely berries for the birds, and sets the seed within them, coating it with an irritating film. The birds, upon digesting the berries find themselves in some discomfort when expelling the seed. To relieve themselves they wipe their, ahem, posteriors on some nice tree bark, and thus the seed is then deposited on another tree, and primed to produce more mistletoe and beautiful white berries for bird consumption or for doorway decoration at the holidays! Cool, huh? Marvel at that while you kiss your sweetheart under it.
Christmas in L.A. is.....weird. Like lots of things in L.A. But that doesn't really make it less wonderful somehow. In preparation for the holiday I went to a craft fair last weekend at the L. A. Historic Park, just outside of downtown. It was really hot and dusty, which kind of makes things feel decidedly un-Christmasy and the traffic was terrible, but we finally made it there. This was not your grandma's craft fair and all of the silkscreen t-shirt printing hipsters were there and endless funky cards and beautiful jewelry and wonderfully weird little stuffed animals. There was also a dj and food trucks and lots of dogs and babies. It was a slice of etsy in real life. Totally worth the traffic and dust for sure!
While I was still fighting my way back through traffic Tim and the kids picked up the tree from a Home Depot lot down in the valley. Home Depot Christmas trees are a tough cultural pill to swallow for me. I'm from VT, where as a child we would drive through picturesque country roads dotted with red barns and farmhouses between snow covered mountains to places where we would cut our own tree out in the snowy, silent woods and then pay $15 to an old guy in a checkered hat with earflaps. Back in Maine we have a small balsam stand in the field in back of our very own old red barn which we can cut our tree from and bring it in by hand on a sled. Norman Rockwell all the way baby. But here in L.A. there is not a balsam growing in the woods for thousands of miles and Xmas trees on the west side cost in excess of $100. We sold a little bit of our souls and saved a fair amount of money by heading into the sea of strip malls that is the San Fernando Valley and buying the tree from the Home Despot for only $35. I've come to learn though, that the sacred is not elusive. Wherever it came from though, and whatever it's been through, it's our Christmas tree. It's very pretty standing in our front window and it smells fresh and cool, exhaling piney forest breath and basking in our adoration. It has made a great sacrifice in leaving its home and riding on trucks for hundreds, maybe thousands of miles and sitting in hot sunny parking lots bound in plastic netting. I'm happy for it to spend its final days being fragrant and regal as the centerpiece of all our holiday joy, and an evergreen reminder of the yearly perseverance through darkness again into light. Thank you little tree!
We may not have snowy, silent woods but there are some special Christmas delights for L.A. only, and I'm not talking about L.Ron Hubbard's fake Winter Wonderland on Hollywood Boulevard. We have a big pot of poinsettias on our dining table outside, and X-mas lights adorning the orange tree in our yard, which is heavily laden with ripening yellow oranges. Last weekend after we dropped Shannon off at the train we went to visit the Mexican market at Olivera street just across the way from Union Station. We were in luck that it was the feast day for the most highly esteemed holy lady of Mexico, the Virgin of Gualadelupe!!!! The protector of home and family and special patroness of all things Mexican. The Olivera Street market was teeming with families out to celebrate the day and do some Xmas shopping for pinatas, gorditas, jamoncillo, saint candles, ponchos with pictures of the Virgin on them, tote bags of Frida and countless other low-cost treasures. And to order their holiday tamales! We passed a troupe singing rancheras to the Virgin statue that was all festooned with flowers and candles and small offerings. In the square at the end of the street under the huge, ancient oak tree a troupe of Aztec inspired dancers clad in feathers and bells led children in a dance circle. Perhaps best of all, there was a line of people waiting to have their pictures taken in one of a stack of velvety sombreros while sitting on a life sized plaster donkey in front of a huge painting of the Virgin on the hill in Tepeyac, where she first appeared to the indigenous peasant Juan Diego in 1531 to give him the message that Mexico was forever more blessed and protected by her presence. L.A was part of Mexico then I think, so I figure she claims us too. I really wanted to stand in line for a photo on the plaster donkey but I thought I might creep out or offend the Mexican families. So I just ate a tamale and some burnt milk candy instead. Yum! Seriously.
I'm sure there are more L.A. holiday delights headed my way over the next weeks, and I wish all the best to everyone this season as we celebrate the turning of dark to light and the end and beginning of another year!
Awesome, Sweetheart, as always. I love you.
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