The Christmas cactus symbolizes the holiday better than the ubiquitous poinsettia for my money.
It’s a cactus, for one thing. Cacti grow in deserts, and that seems appropriate for a celebration of a child born in the Middle East. (I feel compelled to admit, however, the schlumbergera is a genus of cacti found in the coastal mountains of south-eastern Brazil, which is about as far from Bethlehem is one can get. But still.)
My other quibble with the traditional poinsettia is its hackneyed red-and-green foliage. Green-and-red this, red-and-green that — I hate that color scheme. Nothing unexpected about it. Give me aquas or purples in December any time. Or a lush pink, like the blooms on my Christmas cactus.
I’m always pleased when my Beloved can coax a blossom or two (or 100) from the Christmas cactus when it’s actually Christmas.
He did it again this year. And my Adored stepson got his wish, too: A white Christmas.
I captured the perfect shot while we were opening gifts this afternoon: Falling snow on the deck behind the Christmas cactus.
Whatever brings Christmas to mind for you, I hope you got it today. Merry Christmas!