Wreaths

One day last week, I was heading north on Route One and pulled over to watch the long caravan of Wreaths Across America inch its way south. It was quite something, really. I was overcome by emotion very unexpectedly and was glad to be sitting still - in a church parking lot. It just happened that way.
A few days later, I read a provocative post by a former student who suggested that we use the millions of dollars spent on wreaths to better care for our veterans. Housing, health care, job training.
While the pragmatism of such a thought might offend some people, admittedly he has a point. Wreaths are pretty but temporary.
Seasonal.

Yesterday, I made a huge wreath for the barn door. I gathered all kinds of greens from my property - mostly blue spruce, cedar, holly and boxwood. Threw in a few pinecones for good measure and may add some red berries. The simplicity of it is what makes it so pretty, and at four feet in diameter, it makes quite a statement on the simple little building.
As I worked on it, the calming smell of pine and cedar clung to me. The circular movement and layering of greens felt comforting as the low December sun sank. Working with my hands is something that brings rewards and pleasures that are so different from those that the day job brings, and the simplicity of it is enticing.

And, in keeping with the simple, circular nature of life, things will be shifting here at the Salty Ewe, and the dormancy of winter will be spent planning and preparing for the now sheepless farmette. Exciting times.