Gorse

If there were ever a more hopeful and life affirming symbol than the gorse bush in the depths of winter, I don’t know what it is.

It’s such an obvious choice, that there must be a good reason that we don’t celebrate gorse (Ulex europeas) more at the time of the winter solstice and Christmas festival, but I can’t find it.

The tradition of bringing an evergreen branch inside the home at the darkest time of the year to remind us that we are turning a corner, and that the days of longer light and warmth are returning and with them fresh lush vegetation, goes back a long way. The Norse people celebrated Jól, a festival of feasting and fire, the burning of a ceremonial log that lights the period of 12 days when the sun stands ‘still’ in the sky. These 12 days are more cultural than scientific, referencing the slowing of the sun as it passes through its declination and most southerly point. The word solstice itself comes from the Latin sol (sun) and sistere (to stand still), it being at a near stop in the sky for 3 days or so, but why let that get in the way of a good knees up? 

Jól by the way, is thought to come from the Old Norse word for wheel, symbolizing the turn of the sun back towards longer days. This became ġéol in Old English and formed the word yule that we know and love today. It also influenced the Old French word jolif which became the word jolly.

In pagan traditions during this period ivy, holly or yew were brought into the home but presumably other evergreens as well. I can’t help feeling that we’re missing a trick with gorse. As the saying goes ‘when gorse is in blossom, kissing is in season’ or the slightly more lyrical ‘When the furze is in bloom, my love's in tune’, other versions are available.. The LOL’s here being that gorse is in flower almost, if not all, year long. Actually it is likely to be a combination of the native common gorse or just plain old gorse to you and me, Ulex europaeus that flowers mainly from January until June and either western gorse Ulex gallii or more common in southern England dwarf gorse Ulex minor each flowering from july to november. I bet though, we can find some in flower over Jól. Especially with global warming, gotta be good for something right!? 

I’m in no hurry to suggest that we all go out and cut gorse to bring it into the home, especially if it is in flower, but how about skipping the mistletoe for a year and gathering around some gorse to exercise the fluttering of lashes to our loved one for a peck on the cheek? It’s got a good ring to it I reckon. And if we can catch the scent of coconut from a flower in the depths of winter what better reminder of sun than that? 

Gorse does a fantastic job for our little flying and creeping friends also, offering an extended supply of nectar and pollen to 20 species of bee, including 13 bumblebees, 6 solitary bees and the one species of honey bee in Britain (don’t get me started how heavily we weight these over the other 250 species..); 11 species of hoverfly; 8 other species of fly; 4 beetles; 3 species of ant and wasp and one little thrip. 

There are in addition to this, 8 species of butterflies whose caterpillars use the plant for food, including the Red List Category ‘vulnerable’ silver-studded blue and the holly blue that had a reported decline of 80% between 2023 and 2024 according to Butterfly Conservation charity’s counts. Moths do well out of gorse too, 16 moth caterpillars, such as, the cream-spot tiger, grass wave, grass eggar, dark tussock, the wonderfully named, beautiful brocade feed on gorse and 47 other insects eat the plant. 

That’s a whopping 118 insect species alone that gorse hosts. More, I might mention, than I intend to host this Christmas, so hats off to it!

God jul, Andy.


Photo by Richard Bell