My wreath…see it was worth going out in the cold

 

This is the wreath that I made from some of the bits of cedar I picked up out at my mom’s the other day. It now hangs on my front door to greet visitors as they arrive.

They say I’m crazy….

…they could be right!

Day before yesterday I had my hair cut by a nice older lady who my mother knows from church. She lives next door to mom’s church, where my parents have their motor home parked while waiting to take their yearly trip to Arizona. So I drove over and mom and I walked to A’s house.

Now, in the corner of the church property, next to the road there has been a huge tree for ages. It was probably there when the road was a dirt wagon track and no houses for miles around. But as with all things, time has taken its toll on this mighty sentinel and due to tree illness it began to rot from the inside. It was decided that in the interest of safety it had to come down before the winds blew it down.

I’m sad to say that I had never really taken notice of the tree before. As with most people I was always too busy bustling about my little human life to really see the beautiful things around me. As mom and I walked past the work area with all the limbs and greenery that had been stripped from the tree laying about in piles and the huge rounds of wood waiting to be chopped into burnable chunks the scent of the wood struck me. Cedar….not the strong cedar scent that comes from opening one of those cedar hope chests, this was more subtle, but it was definitely cedar. I asked mom what they were going to do with all the pieces and she said that those church members with wood stoves were sharing the wood among themselves, the smaller bits and greenery that were not much use would be piled out back and set afire. For a moment I felt almost appalled by the near sacrilege of this magnificent tree being reduced to a few hours of warmth and a pile of ashes. It just seemed so wrong.

We went on to A’s and I had my haircut (which turned out just as I told her I wanted it…a rare thing!) but in the back of my mind I couldn’t stop thinking about that tree. All that beautiful wood just destined to be burned up. I paused on our walk back to pass a polite word with the men working, mom’s pastor and an older man I have known since I was a teen, and to just inhale the fragrance of the fresh cut wood. An idea began to form. Even if it was only for this season, some of that greenery could be put to use. A wreath, a swag…something. I posed the idea to my mother and she said it would be alright if I wanted to come take some of it. But she looked at me oddly. It’s a look I have been getting from her and others for most of my life. That look that says they are wondering what kind of weird thing is running through my mind now. I don’t know what was so odd about the idea of a cedar wreath to hang on my door for the holidays, but then it was my mother, she rarely gets me.

The next day my good neighbor and friend, Char, came over to see my new do and I told her my idea. She didn’t give me the look at first, she thought it was a great idea. She even said she wouldn’t mind going along and snagging some for her own project. Then I told her that along with some of the greenery I wanted a piece of limb…about ‘this long’ and ‘this round’…and there was the look. Not exactly the same as my mother’s look, because Char knows me and how my mind twists and turns sometimes. I think she even knows that though I may have said out loud I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with my piece of wood there was an idea of some kind behind wanting it. Like the good friend she is, she let me keep my secret ponderings and just gave me her version of the look. It’s still the look of wondering what is going on upstairs, but hers is more curious and hopeful that she gets let in on it at sometime.

And so off we went…Char and I and her daughter Crys. The air was knife sharp, it cut through our clothing like we weren’t wearing any at all. My nose and cheeks were bright red and nearly numb and the tips of my fingers protested strenuously. Still we persisted in our quest. We arrived at the church and my father came out to help us poor girls with our dirty work. He gave me his version of the look. The one that says he wonders about me sometimes, but he also enjoys the occasional nuttiness I bring him into. Mom stayed in the motor home, she’s not an adventurous person.

We quickly grabbed up quite a bit of the greenery and stuffed it in the back of the van. Enough that we could both get something nice made from it. Then the search for the perfect stick began. I showed them again how long and how thick I wanted it and we all started looking. There was more of that look thrown my way, especially as the wind picked up and the cold began to sink in. Finally after several pieces were held up for inspection I picked up a small piece to move it out of the way and then looked at it closer. It was a bit shorter than I had envisioned, but it felt right in my hand. Here was my new stick, my piece of the tree that I would keep safe when the rest of it was long gone. In triumph we headed back to the van, me cradling my piece of tree. Then dad stopped and slid another piece from beneath the edge of a pile of greenery. It was about the same thickness but almost shoulder height, for me. He asked if I wanted that one too, and I found I did. Or maybe I should say…it wanted me.

Yes, I can feel the looks coming through my screen now…you all just stop that, you know you want to know what I’m going to do with my lovely pieces of wood……..