5 minute read
Wreath Wrath
Wreath Wrath By Hannah Stiff
If You Want The Décor, Be Ready To Properly Store it
A wise woman once probably holiday (pagan that I am), she said that you should never put a great deal of effort into write an article in any this wreath. I didn’t know publication, in any part of Halloween wreaths were the world about your mother a thing. Obviously, I didn’t in law. Sadly, I never got the pay enough attention to the quote firsthand. So here goes. craft store advertisements
Last year, shortly before Halloween, my mother in law (MIL, from here on out) sent me a festive wreath. Knowing Halloween is my favorite about making my own spooky wreath because, well, who are we kidding? I would never make my own holiday wreath. But my thoughtful, crafty MIL paid attention to those advertisements and filled her cart with Halloween décor. When my wreath arrived, sent extra speedy delivery so it would arrive on time (to my father in law’s chagrin, the thing cost almost $90 to rush deliver from their Georgia home to our Montana doorstep), the box was massive. We’re talking big enough to fit a large dog in. We carefully opened the box and unearthed a 9-pound (yes, we actually weighed the behemoth) wreath. What we unearthed can only be described as priceless. The wreath is anchored on a massive, empty black picture frame. The frame is over two feet tall and adorned with ribbon, plastic skulls, glittery bats, dark roses, and orange LED lights. The lights require three battery packs to operate at max capacity. The packs are, of course, artfully hidden on the back of the frame. If the abovementioned décor weren’t enough for one wreath, read on. The pièce de résistance hangs from the top left corner of the wreath. I can’t write the words “skeleton grim reaper in shackles sporting a jaunty sparkly orange top hat with a cute little striped spider broach” without smiling. But that’s exactly what the focal point of this busy wreath is. Interestingly, the skeleton has messy, nearly crimped looking white hair, gnarling out from his top hat. I always pictured a skeleton grim reaper with a sparkly top hat to be bald. My mistake. On the reaper’s flowing black robes, (that extend even below the massive frame, so as to blow in eerily the wind, I’m told) is a spider as large as my chubby adult hand. The arachnid is festooned from some sort of shiny pipe cleaner material. Again, if I actually read those craft store advertisements, I might know the industry terms for all these fancy trimmings. Linking the left side of the wreath’s frame to the right side is a sign that reads “Beware.” It might urge the observer to actually beware our house (Obviously pagans reside inside, have you seen the size of their wreath?), but the letters are sparkly and plastered to what I assume is little bits of cutesy craft paper. Next to skeleton grim reaper’s top hat is an intricate bow, made by hand, featuring three different kinds of ribbon. And in the center of this elaborate bow – you guessed it – is another plastic skull. But the ribbons! They totally distract from the spookier elements of the wreath. Loops of smiling jack-o-lanterns are intertwined with loops of black and orange polka
dotted ribbon, crisscrossed with ribbon featuring that white and black diamond joker pattern. If a triple decker ribbon wasn’t enough to melt my little witch heart, the orange LED lights are also looped through the ribbon. The effect is simply adorable. So, after we unboxed this legendary Halloween wreath, we headed to the hardware store to get the right supplies to properly hang the masterpiece. Since we can’t hit a stud on the front door, I wondered if we would need to nail down a plank to anchor the wreath. Alas, my handy partner figured it out. As we stood back to admire this massive ode to Halloween – my mother in law’s magnus opus – I felt proud. Proud to have such a crafty MIL. Proud that we’ve got the kind of relationship where I can unabashedly talk about my love of Halloween. Our pride in our homemade wreath from Georgia lasted all Halloween long. I sadly took the wreath down in early November and put it on top of a storage rack in the garage, propped on some moving blankets, high out of reach of child or pet. In November, my in-laws came for Thanksgiving. We had a lovely time eating too much and avoiding political conversations. All was going well until my mother in law ended up in the garage. We followed her gaze to the Halloween wreath. Instead of being thoughtfully perched beside the moving blankets, the wreath was wrenched precariously between storage boxes. We must have upset the pumpkin cart when we were trying to spark joy in our garage tidying. “I appreciate that ya’ll took real good care of my wreath,” my mother in law said. She said it in that tart but sweet southern way that lets you know you’re about to hear a “bless your heart” next. We responded with profuse 9
apologies and promises to do better. My partner later took his mother aside and asked sincerely how to store the wreath properly. He assured her that we do love the wreath and didn’t mean any disrespect by storing it improperly. To this day, I think that’s the harshest thing my MIL has ever said. As I carefully unbox my Halloween wreath this year, I’ll make sure to appreciate each skull, ribbon, bat and top hat. And when I’m done appreciating it, I’ll carefully re-box it and put it our storage unit, far, far away from wandering eyes.
Congratulations to the Bozeman Daily Chronicle’s Crafty Creation winner:
