I went to a Wreath-Making Party the other night and at first I was worried this was The Ultimate White Girl Thing To Do. Oh the Instagrams that will happen! Oh the talk of Eucalyptus leaves and Rosemary and Asymetrical Simplicity and Crafting! But then… it just hit me. I was elbow deep in a wire basket of Christmas Tree clippings and –BOOM. I AM HAVING THE MOST FUN, POSSIBLY EVER, AND AT LEAST FOR A COLD MONDAY NIGHT IN DECEMBER IT DOESN’T GET MUCH BETTER THAN THIS RIGHT HERE. After many painstaking minutes of assembling the branches and weaving in leather cords to secure them to the hoop, I nonchalantly threw a few berries on my wreath and– I JUST COULDN’T BE STOPPED. Something in me came alive. I FREAKING LOVE MAKING WREATHS.
There is just something about making things with your hands– the feel of the material on your skin, the thought processes and decision-making during creation, the joy (or sorrow) at the finished product… and now, here’s this thing, this weird-and-sort-of-lopsided-natural-round-wonder-that’s-all-mine thing and… I made it! It’s been a while since I’ve made something with my hands and it just felt good. That might have been the Moscow Mules and the Christmas Tunes… but I think it was the Wreath-Making. The rosemary filled up my senses and my world was a greenery-clad wonderland.
All this to say… if you’ve never made a wreath… you should try it. Just go forage around in your backyard, throw on some Bing Crosby, and get to work, sister. These doors aren’t going to decorate themselves.