You’ve probably seen the red-suited guy on a truck, the plastic evergreen in the window, or the weirdly specific gourds sitting on a porch in late October. Most people just call them decorations. We buy them, we dust them off once a year, and then we shove them back into a cardboard box in the attic. But symbols of the season aren't just commercial filler. They’re actually a messy, fascinating survival kit of human history. They tell us how we stayed alive—and sane—during the darkest parts of the year.
Honestly, it’s kinda wild how much we get wrong about where these things come from. We think the Coca-Cola company invented the modern Santa (they didn't, though they definitely helped the marketing) or that pumpkins have always been the face of Halloween. In reality, these symbols are a mashup of ancient Roman parties, Germanic folklore, and a lot of desperate attempts to convince ourselves that spring was actually coming back.
The Greenery That Wouldn't Die
Ever wonder why we drag a dead tree into the living room? It’s a bit of a weird tradition when you actually think about it. But for people living in Northern Europe a thousand years ago, the evergreen tree was basically a promise. When every other plant looked dead and skeletal, the fir, spruce, and pine stayed green. It was a visual reminder that life hadn't totally vanished from the earth.
Ancient Egyptians filled their homes with green palm rushes during the winter solstice to celebrate the god Ra’s recovery from illness. Romans used evergreen boughs to decorate their temples during Saturnalia. Even the Vikings thought evergreens were the special plant of Balder, the god of light.
It wasn’t until much later, specifically in 16th-century Germany, that people started bringing whole trees inside. Legend has it that Martin Luther, the Protestant reformer, was walking home one night and saw stars twinkling through the branches of a fir tree. He thought it was so beautiful that he set a tree up in his house and wired it with candles. Imagine the fire hazard. People did it anyway. By the time Queen Victoria’s husband, Prince Albert, brought the tradition to England in the 1840s, the "Christmas tree" became the definitive symbol of the season for the Western world.
Holly, Ivy, and the Battle of the Sexes
If the tree is the king of seasonal symbols, holly and ivy are the supporting cast with a lot of baggage. We sing about them in carols, but their history is surprisingly competitive. In old English folklore, holly was considered "masculine" because of its prickly leaves, while ivy was "feminine" because it clings to things.
There were literally songs and poems written as "debates" between the two plants.
- Holly was meant to protect the home from evil spirits.
- Ivy was used to ensure fertility and good luck.
- Putting them together was a symbolic way to bring balance to a household during the winter.
Then there’s the berries. The bright red of the holly berry was a stark contrast to the white snow. It’s one of the few things that provides food for birds in the dead of winter. That’s why it became a symbol of life force. It’s vibrant. It’s tough. It’s basically nature’s way of saying, "I’m still here."
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The Strange Evolution of the Jack-o'-Lantern
Let's pivot to the harvest. The pumpkin is the undisputed heavyweight of autumn symbols of the season, but it wasn't always a pumpkin. In Ireland and Scotland, people originally used large turnips or beets.
They’d hollow them out, carve scary faces into them, and put a coal or candle inside. The goal? To scare away "Stingy Jack," a mythical figure who allegedly tricked the devil and was doomed to wander the earth with only a hollowed-out turnip to light his way. Turnips are small and incredibly hard to carve. When Irish immigrants came to America, they found pumpkins.
Pumpkins were bigger. They were softer. They were everywhere.
It was a total upgrade. Now, the pumpkin isn't just a spooky face; it's a multi-billion dollar industry involving lattes, scented candles, and "giant pumpkin" competitions that get surprisingly aggressive. But at its core, it’s still that same old Irish tradition of lighting a lamp against the encroaching dark.
Mistletoe: The Parasite of Love
Mistletoe is a weird one. Scientifically, it’s a hemiparasite. It grows on the branches of trees and steals their water and nutrients. Not exactly romantic. Yet, we stand under it to get a kiss.
This specific symbol of the season comes largely from the Druids. They saw mistletoe growing on sacred oaks and thought it had magical properties. Since it stayed green even when the host tree looked dead, they believed it contained the "essence" of the tree’s life. They’d cut it down with a golden sickle and use it to treat everything from infertility to poison.
The kissing part? That likely comes from Norse mythology. There’s a story about the god Baldur being killed by an arrow made of mistletoe. His mother, Frigg, cried so much that her tears turned into the white berries on the plant, and she declared that mistletoe should never again be used as a weapon, but instead should be a symbol of love and peace. By the 18th century, it was a common "kissing bush" tradition in England. If a girl stood under it, she couldn't refuse a kiss, or she’d have bad luck the following year.
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Why Red and Green Dominate Everything
If you look at symbols of the season collectively, red and green are the default color palette. It feels like a corporate choice, but it’s actually biological. Dr. Spike Bucklow from the University of Cambridge points out that this color pairing goes back centuries.
In the Victorian era, red and green were the colors of the "rood screens" in churches—the partitions that separated the congregation from the altar. Green represented the "earthly" world and red represented the "divine." When you put them together, you’re symbolizing the intersection of the two. Plus, from a purely aesthetic standpoint, red and green are complementary colors on the color wheel. They make each other look brighter. It’s a natural "pop" against a grey, wintry landscape.
The Modern Rebrand: From Faith to Flavor
We’ve seen a shift lately. The symbols of the season are becoming less about ancient gods and more about "vibes."
Think about the "Cozy Season" or "Spooky Season" branding. The symbols have transitioned from religious icons to lifestyle markers. A white ceramic house with a tea light inside isn't representing a specific deity; it’s representing "hygge," the Danish concept of coziness.
We’re also seeing a return to naturalism. People are ditching the tinsel for dried orange slices and cinnamon sticks. It’s a callback to a time when decorations had to be edible or compostable because that’s all people had. It’s funny how we spend decades making things more plastic and shiny, only to circle back to the stuff our great-great-grandparents used because it feels "more authentic."
What Most People Miss About the Reindeer
Quick side note: Reindeer. Why do they fly? This is one of those symbols of the season that actually has some scholarly debate attached to it. Some researchers, like those who study Siberian shamanism, point to the "fly agaric" mushroom—the red one with white spots you see in fairy tales.
Reindeer love eating these mushrooms. These mushrooms are also hallucinogenic.
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There’s a theory—admittedly a bit fringe but widely discussed in botanical circles—that the imagery of "flying reindeer" came from shamans observing reindeer acting... high. Whether or not that’s the literal origin of Rudolph, the reindeer became a permanent fixture in the 1823 poem "A Visit from St. Nicholas." Before that, Santa usually rode a horse or just walked.
How to Use This Knowledge
Knowing the "why" behind these symbols of the season changes how you decorate. It makes the items in those boxes feel a little less like clutter and a little more like a connection to the people who came before us.
If you want to lean into the more authentic side of seasonal symbolism, here are a few ways to do it without spending a fortune at a big-box store:
- Focus on the Senses: Instead of just visual plastic, use cedar boughs, cloves, and real beeswax. These were the original symbols because they changed the smell and feel of a home during the dark months.
- Embrace the Contrast: The whole point of winter symbols is "light in the dark." Use low, warm lighting rather than overhead LEDs.
- Mix the Eras: Don't worry about having a "perfect" theme. The history of these symbols is messy and layered. A turnip-lantern next to a modern ceramic pumpkin is actually more historically accurate to how cultures evolve than a perfectly curated Pinterest board.
- Research Your Own Roots: Different cultures have wildly different symbols. In Mexico, the Poinsettia (Flor de Nochebuena) is the star. In Sweden, it's the Yule Goat made of straw. Look into your own heritage to find symbols that actually mean something to you personally.
The symbols of the season are basically our way of whistling in the dark. We surround ourselves with reminders of growth, light, and warmth because, for a few months out of the year, the world feels a little cold and empty. Whether it’s a plastic tree or a real one, the intent is the same: to prove that we’re still here, and that the light is coming back eventually.
Next time you're untangling a string of lights or carving a face into a squash, remember you're participating in a ritual that's thousands of years old. You’re not just decorating. You’re keeping the dark at bay.
To get started with a more "historical" seasonal look, try making a traditional pomander. Take a firm orange and stud it with whole cloves in whatever pattern you like. It’s a symbol of health and wealth that dates back to the Middle Ages, it smells incredible for weeks, and it’s a lot more interesting than another bag of tinsel. It’s a simple way to bring a piece of real history into your living room this year.