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Come back to this page each day to read another entry from Frederick R. Gehlbach's almanac of suburban natural and unnatural history, "Messages from the Wild," which chronicles the world of a forested ravine in central Texas.
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A temperature in the mid-twenties or colder for several hours is necessary for frostweed frost, which is the plant's sap, breeze-whipped and frozen into white swirls as it exudes from cracks in the dry stem. Last night it happened for the first time this season, and today frosty white "candles" decorate the forest floor, previously "iced" with a new carpet of chocolate-brown leaves. Frostweed ornaments the holiday woods together with red possumhaws, blue juniper berries, and clusters of white western soapberries -- a personal view that contrasts with the increasingly garish Christmas light displays of suburbia. My ancestors mimicked the summer they missed when decorating for Christmas. Green trees, wreaths, and red berries gave cheer to people forced indoors by harsh weather and brought good luck according to legends dating from Roman times. Lighted candles on Christmas trees broke the gloom before electricity in an age when the trees were not put up until Christmas eve and gifts were homemade. Now folks buy gifts, employ plastic Christmas trees, and commercial and suburban lighting and other decorating begins before Thanksgiving for merchandising and winning prizes. |
Frederick R. Gehlbach is Professor Emeritus of Biology and Environmental Studies at Baylor University. His ecological studies have taken him from New Zealand to Slovakia and, in the Americas, from Alaska and Newfoundland to Guatemala, Belize and Honduras. His research interests include the life-history strategies of small owls, small burrowing snakes and urban wildlife ecology.
From MESSAGES FROM THE WILD: AN ALMANAC OF SUBURBAN NATURAL AND UNNATURAL HISTORY by Frederick R. Gehlbach, Copyright © 2002. Courtesy of the University of Texas Press.
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