PLANTING A PARASITE IS A STICKY BUSINESS

By Richard Wright - Friday, April 18, 2008

A Stanley knife is used to gash the bark for the berries.

GARDENING
MISTLETOE was accompanied by whine the other weekend.
Planting of the sticky berries was frustratingly snowed off but, kept in a bag in a cool place, they survived the delay.
I was given a large handful by Alison Toney from a magnificent bush on her Carisbrooke apple tree.
I’ve learned a lot about mistletoe in the last few weeks and here are the top hints, in no special order.
l Choose berries from a tree of the same species as your host. There are many different strains, each preferring a different type of tree.
l Now is just the right time to plant, when berries are at their gloppiest.
l Pick a branch on a tree at least 15 years old, choosing the underside because it’s least accessible to birds.
A Stanley knife is a useful tool to do the job of making a gash in the bark, lifting it from the wood to make a pouch.
The berries can then be squeezed into their new host, under the bark flaps.
Birds will still be inclined to seek out the seeds, so it’s a good idea to cover the flaps with sacking tied round with garden twine to protect them from inquisitive beaks.
Despite containing some of the most persistent glue known to nature, giving it its fertility connections, it is not a particularly effective breeder itself and that is probably a good thing for trees in general.
All but one in ten mistletoe seeds is a dud, so bear in mind that you will be shooting quite a few blanks into your new host.
Both a male and female are needed for berry production and the difference can only be established once they have flowered — and that can take a good few years.
Initial growth is a slow business and as the parasite takes hold the host branch begins to swell as more and more nutrition is sucked from it.
I’ve sown mine onto a Bramley that isn’t really old enough to cope with the parasitic burden but it’s been a poor fruiter and will probably be more use as a mistletoe producer.
If only one mistletoe plant is produced it will be good enough.
Mistletoe has the peculiarity of being able to be sown onto itself. It will act as a parasite — upon the back of a parasite.

GARDEN GURU HAS TIPS FOR OUR FAN
COMPARE, if you will, the picture last week of the best known person ever to fill the High Sheriff’s tights with the image from the eighties on the front of one of his earlier books.
Isn’t time kind, in this case?
Tank-top man Alan Titchmarsh was, in 1982, at a relatively early stage of a career that blossomed from its gardening roots into broadcasting.
The Allotment Gardener’s Handbook was one of a large crop of handy reference paperbacks but set apart from the crowd by the man’s obvious enthusiasm for a hobby that turned earner as early as his mid teens.
By the time he penned the handbook he had already crammed in many years of practical experience, including some at Kew.
He was one of the early personality gardeners who really knew their onions too.
When I met him in Cowes for the first time a couple of weeks ago his commitment to the high sheriff’s role was impressive. He gave me a couple of mistletoe planting tips too.
Alan was looking forward to attacking his new role with the gusto he has employed throughout his career.
Best of luck, mate, or should I say, lad.

PLANTING A PARASITE IS A STICKY BUSINESS

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