Saturday, December 17, 2011

Poinsettias





Poinsettia plants are native to Central America, especially an area of southern Mexico known as 'Taxco del Alarcon' where they flower during the winter. The ancient Aztecs called them 'cuetlaxochitl'. The Aztecs had many uses for them including using the flowers (also known as bracts) to make a purple dye for clothes and cosmetics and the milky white sap was made into a medicine to treat fevers. (Today we call the sap latex!)

The poinsettia was made widely known because of a man called Joel Roberts Poinsett (that's why we call them Poinsettia!). He was the first Ambassador from the U.S.A. to Mexico in 1825. Mr. Poinsett also founded the scientific institution in the U.S.A called the Smithsonian Institute. Poinsett had some greenhouses on his plantations in South Carolina, and while visiting the Taco area in 1828, he became very interested in the plants. He immediately sent some of the plants back to South Carolina, where he began growing the plants and sending them to friends and botanical gardens.

One of the friends he sent plants to was John Barroom of Philadelphia, who gave the plant to his friend, Robert Buist, a plantsmans from Pennsylvania. Robert Buist was probably the first person to have sold the poinsettias under their botanical, or latin name, name 'Euphorbia pulcherrima' (it means, 'the most beautiful Euphorbia'). It is thought that it became known as Poinsettia in the mid 1830's when people found out who had first brought it to America from Mexico.

There is an old Mexican legend about how Poinsettia's and Christmas come together, it goes like this.

There was once a poor Mexican girl called Pepita who had no present to give the the baby Jesus at the Christmas Eve Services. As Pepita walked to the chapel, sadly, her cousin Pedro tried to cheer her up.
'Pepita', he said 'I'm sure that even the smallest gift, given by someone who loves him will make Jesus Happy.'

Pepita didn't know what she could give, so she picked a small handful of weeds from the roadside and made them into a a small bouquet. She felt embarrassed because she could only give this small present to Jesus. As she walked through the chapel to the altar, she remembered what Pedro had said. She began to feel better, knelt down and put the bouquet at the bottom of the nativity scene. Suddenly, the bouquet of weeds burst into bright red flowers, and everyone who saw them were sure they had seen a miracle. From that day on, the bright red flowers were known as the 'Flores de Noche Buena', or 'Flowers of the Holy Night'.

The shape of the poinsettia flower and leaves are sometimes thought as a symbol of the Star of Bethlehem which led the Wise Men to Jesus. The red colored leaves symbolize the blood of Christ. The white leaves represent his purity.

The Poinsettia is also the national emblem of Madagascar.


Monday, December 12, 2011

Christmas At Rock A Way Rest


Twas the night before Christmas at Rock-Away Rest, 
            
and all of us seniors were looking our best. 
            
Our glasses, how sparkly, our wrinkles, how merry; 
            
Our punchbowl held prune juice plus three drops of sherry.
            
    
            
A bedsock was taped to each walker, in hope
          
That Santa would bring us soft candy and soap. 
            
We surely were lucky to be there with friends, 
            
Secure in this residence and in our Depends.
            
    
            
Our grandkids had sent us some Christmasy crafts, 
            
Like angels in snowsuits and penguins on rafts. 
            
The dental assistant had borrowed our teeth, 
            
And from them she'd crafted a holiday wreath. 
            
    
            
The bed pans, so shiny, all stood in a row, 
            
Reflecting our candle's magnificent glow. 
            
Our supper so festive -- the joy wouldn't stop -- 
            
Was creamy warm oatmeal with sprinkles on top.
            
    
            
Our salad was Jell-O, so jiggly and great, 
            
Then puree of fruitcake was spooned on each plate. 
            
The social director then had us play games, 
            
Like "Where Are You Living?" and "What Are Your Names?"
            
    
            
Old Grandfather Looper was feeling his oats, 
            
Proclaiming that reindeer were nothing but goats. 
            
Our resident wand'rer was tied to her chair, 
            
In hopes that at bedtime she still would be there.
            
    
            
Security lights on the new fallen snow 
            
Made outdoors seem noon to the old folks below. 
            
Then out on the porch there arose quite a clatter 
            
(But we are so deaf that it just didn't matter).
            
    
            
A strange little fellow flew in through the door, 
            
Then tripped on the sill and fell flat on the floor. 
            
Twas just our director, all togged out in red. 
            
He jiggled and chuckled and patted each head.
            
    
            
   
We knew from the way that he strutted and jived 
            
Our social- security checks had arrived. 
            
We sang -- how we sang -- in our monotone croak, 
            
Till the clock tinkled out its soft eight-p.m. stroke.
            
    
            
And soon we were snuggling deep in our beds. 
            
While nurses distributed nocturnal meds.

And so ends our Christmas at Rock-Away Rest. 
            
fore long you'll be with us, We wish you the best!Twas the night before Christmas at Rock-Away Rest, 
            
and all of us seniors were looking our best. 
            
Our glasses, how sparkly, our wrinkles, how merry; 
            
Our punchbowl held prune juice plus three drops of sherry.
            
    
            
A bedsock was taped to each walker, in hope
          
That Santa would bring us soft candy and soap. 
            
We surely were lucky to be there with friends, 
            
Secure in this residence and in our Depends.
            
    
            
Our grandkids had sent us some Christmasy crafts, 
            
Like angels in snowsuits and penguins on rafts. 
            
The dental assistant had borrowed our teeth, 
            
And from them she'd crafted a holiday wreath. 
            
    
            
The bed pans, so shiny, all stood in a row, 
            
Reflecting our candle's magnificent glow. 
            
Our supper so festive -- the joy wouldn't stop -- 
            
Was creamy warm oatmeal with sprinkles on top.
            
    
            
Our salad was Jell-O, so jiggly and great, 
            
Then puree of fruitcake was spooned on each plate. 
            
The social director then had us play games, 
            
Like "Where Are You Living?" and "What Are Your Names?"
            
    
            
Old Grandfather Looper was feeling his oats, 
            
Proclaiming that reindeer were nothing but goats. 
            
Our resident wand'rer was tied to her chair, 
            
In hopes that at bedtime she still would be there.
            
    
            
Security lights on the new fallen snow 
            
Made outdoors seem noon to the old folks below. 
            
Then out on the porch there arose quite a clatter 
            
(But we are so deaf that it just didn't matter).
            
    
            
A strange little fellow flew in through the door, 
            
Then tripped on the sill and fell flat on the floor. 
            
Twas just our director, all togged out in red. 
            
He jiggled and chuckled and patted each head.
            
    
            
   
We knew from the way that he strutted and jived 
            
Our social- security checks had arrived. 
            
We sang -- how we sang -- in our monotone croak, 
            
Till the clock tinkled out its soft eight-p.m. stroke.
            
    
            
And soon we were snuggling deep in our beds. 
            
While nurses distributed nocturnal meds.

And so ends our Christmas at Rock-Away Rest. 
            
fore long you'll be with us, We wish you the best!




Fitness By Marilyn http://www.fitnessbymarilyn.com Independent AIM Member - Marilyn Wilson Murray