New England Folkways - Winterberry

New England Folkways is a blog series authored by Emily Íviðja centered around documenting the culture, tradition, and folklore of people living in New England, with a focus on the author’s lifelong home of New Hampshire, known by the Indigenous Abenaki people as Ndakinna. The goal of this series is to bring local lore to a broader audience to help New Hampshirites and New Englanders alike reconnect with the land we live on so that we may become better denizens and stewards of this beautiful region.

Ah, New England winter… the bleakest of seasons here in the blustering Northeast, and one of the most beloved by residents and visitors alike. Tourists come from far and wide to experience the natural phenomena of the dark half of the year, whether leaf peeping or heading up Route 16 to the mountains to cut some powder (which means to go skiing or snowboarding on fresh snow for those uninitiated). 

Though beautiful, our falls and winters can be extremely brutal. November windstorms lead into frequent snowfalls historically starting in December and lasting at least through March, with the not uncommon and oft-expected April snow shower making an appearance. Throw in a few nor-easters, and you’ve got a classic New Hampshire winter. This bleak darkness, though at times dreadful, is first heralded by a most beautiful sight. Driving past any wetland (of which we have many) might give the observant eye a glimpse of this bright red beauty: that of Ilex verticillata, lovingly known as winterberry. 

A member of the holly family, winterberry is a native plant to the Eastern US that grows abundantly near and in wetlands, as well as in some grassy habitats. It is a favorite of many indigenous bird species, such as the blue jay, American robin, and the humble chickadee. Local deer populations have also been known to enjoy the berry, making it a bit of a challenge to forage if you’re unable to get ahead of the hooved curve. 

It is not only the local fauna that adore winterberry. It is highly prized by many a New Englander as well, often collected to be used in holiday wreaths and other wintertime decorations. It is a favorite of my mother, who I have seen go to great lengths to forage for the plant. I have such vivid childhood memories of her pulling off to the side of a poorly paved backroad to hoof it into the brush because she’d seen a glimpse of red through the bare branches. She was the one who taught me to always keep a pair of pruning shears - or at least some sharp, good quality scissors - in my car. You never know what you might see on the side of the road. 

This year, I was the one that did the winterberry harvesting as a surprise for my mom. I took my time with it, driving around our area and foraging from a few choice bushes, careful not to overharvest. As I went, it got me thinking about the nature of winterberry. Some of the plants spoke while I harvested and shared with me some of their medicine and magic. I am very grateful for the knowledge that they shared, and am excited to discuss it here. Please note: this is my personal experience and is innately subjective! Take my thoughts as thou wilt. 

Winterberry is a very bright, joyous spirit. The red color of its berries speak to virtues of lifeforce and protection. Though red is often worked with for matters of the heart, I don’t think winterberry is a romantic sort. It seems more concerned with the many rather than the individual. As it is an important food for local fauna, and one that many animals go to for nourishment during the cold months, I feel winterberry is a powerful ally for workings relating to community abundance and nourishment. Since it’s a plant that thrives and fruits during harsher weather conditions, it may also be applied in workings to ward off the negative impacts of the cold, chiefly wintertime viruses like the flu. 

There may be some Indigenous lore to suggest winterberry has medical applications - James Herrick’s Iroquois Medical Botany (1977) states that it could be applied in a number of ways: Decoctions of the bark were taken as both a physic and an emetic and that compound decoctions of the root could be taken for hay fever. I could not find an Indigenous source to cross-reference this claim, nor have I found any medical studies to prove the efficacy of this use. It is known that the berries are mildly toxic to humans, with children being more at risk of being poisoned. With all this information in mind, I do not advise taking winterberry internally. However, that doesn’t mean we can’t work with it magically! 

If you’re like my family and you use it to decorate your home during the winter, wait until the berries dry and begin to fall from the branches to collect them. Using a needle and red thread, you can create winterberry garlands for protection to hang over doors, windows, or to keep by your bedside. Some of the dried berries may make a suitable addition to a money bowl or a similar working to represent and invite in food and crop-related abundance. Whether kept for its beautiful berries or worked with magically, winterberry brings with it a much-needed brightness, bringing vibrance to even the worst of winters.