Fragile blossoms rain faded. Fragile flowers wind crumbled. The delicate wreath struggling in the savage weather. Hydrangea blooms are not made for this. I salvaged the wreath. Hung it to dry. New, dried flowers in faded bruised blues and purples to the rescue. A fine silk ribbon to adorn. A new place to hang.
It is not in my nature to discard what can be saved. The existence of this wreath began in early spring. Hydrangea bushes heavy with blossoms charmed their way through summer. Autumn and as the flowers changed colour I began to cut and hang the heads to dry. A wreath months in the making now hangs above a treasured nativity scene.