The Wreath

Part of bringing the house from a blaze of red and gold to the comforting shades of browns and greens was redoing the wreath over the fireplace.

I'm no florist, so this task is always fraught with angst and a great consulting with the children and doing and redoing and hmmmm-ing and aaaaaah-ing.

I started with a lucious copper ribbon.






And then tucked in some of those delicious new ornaments and a few pinecones rescued from the old wreath.



The crepe myrtle pods from my fall table got a shimmery gold coat and were added in.




Hmmmm . . . still needed some more natural touches to counteract the slight garishness of the sparkles. So, I went a-snipping around the yard and produced maple twigs, mini magnolia leaves (dusted with a little gold), and some sort of variegated leaf.




Tuck . . . spray . . . adjust . . . snip . . . squeeze . . . catch . . . bend . . . ponder . . . switch . . . turn . . . critique . . . add . . . hang . . . gaze.

After a few moments of loving gazing, I needed a little input.


Youngest Daughter and Youngest Son chimed in, "It's just beeeeeauuuutiful, Mommy!"

(Yeah, yeah, but it also looks beautiful to you two when I light a single candle on the dining room table or pick a single flower and put it in the bottom of an old salt shaker. You two are too easily impressed. Must look for more critical input.)

I bring in the Man of the House.

"Looks nice. Looks good."


"Uh-huh? Anything else?"


He begins to look vaguely panicked and excuses himself to watch the basketball game.

"Oldest Daughter?"

"Nice, Mom." Polite smile and the tone of voice she reserves for the feeble of mind.

"Middle Son? Oldest Son?"


"Uh, yeah, it's okay."


"Mom, are you going to just sit all night and stare at it?"


And then it hits me.

Yes, this is why I blog. Because there's a whole world of women out there who understand the way you get flutters when you tuck some magnolia behind a pine cone and the way you want to jump up and down at the light shimmering on the copper ribbon and the way you feel when you just made something and you sit on the couch with the sun going down outside and just enjoy it until the light is gone and the living room is swallowed up in night.


And you feel . . . content.






Didn't it turn out pretty?