I spotted this romantic wreath on Charles Street in Beacon Hill last week, as we walked to the taqueria for burritos. It was an unseasonably balmy December evening, which felt more like September (although September often feels as warm as July nowadays).
I like wreaths that aren't made from materials other than the usual fir branches. One exception: I saw some all-holly wreaths at Wilson Farm that made my fingers curl protectively in sympathy — gorgeous, but too reminiscent of suffering.
This wreath is made of cedar, the floppiest of all the holiday greens, which gave it loads of character. It was droopy, asymmetrical, and delightfully old-fashioned. I wonder if it was homemade:
And since it was hanging on the door of a realtor, it was decorated with keys: