Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Make a Simple Twig Wreath


This is so easy.
I remember when I first saw a wreath like this. It was in a florist's window. I went in to check the price--I mean, how expensive can a bunch of twigs be? Very expensive, as I learned!

So I went home and cogitated a bit (I love that word, cogitated--it reminds me of my Dad) and came up with my own down-home version. My sons call my wreaths "bad-hair wreaths." Can't imagine where they get that idea.

(The lamp in the photo is one we found in the old log cabin before we moved it. Larry rewired it and I added a new shade)

The wreath in the picture is the first one I made, and it's not as full as some of the later versions. The best one I hung outside on the porch, and a robi pretty well ruined it with her nest last summer. But twigs are free and baby robins are cute, so I'll repair it this year for her.


Directions: use a grapevine wreath, either purchased or homemade, for the base. Cut twigs--I like the bridal spireas best because they have many fine, branching twigs, but experiment with what you have available.


Then simply tuck the twigs into the wreath. Mine held in place very well with no glue at all. Keep sticking in your twigs until your wreath is as full as you'd like it to be.

And that's all there is to it. The wreaths add a rustic touch to any space.

3 comments:

ELLOUISESTORY said...

Enjoyed these "found" stories. reminds me of hearing an NPR interview with John Waters where he talked about the value of "over-hearing" dialogue around you.
Ellouise

Mary said...

I love your "bad hair" wreath, and even more I love the gift you gave your volunteer helpers -- books and respect!

Granny Sue said...

You're right, Ellouise. I've found the beginning or germ for a story from some overheard bit of a conversation. Today, for instance, two old gentlemen at the doctor's office were talking about when they retired. Nothing to keep or use, but they made me think of what the world was like when they started work in the very rural center of West Virginia. That might be the germ for a future story. Or maybe not, but it made me appreciate two old bent men who might not have attracted my second glance otherwise.

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