Every season, in my head anyway, starts with the changing of the door wreath. I’m not sure how this seems to be hardwired into me. I do know that it was something I was raised with, a sort of family tradition. One in which my sisters and I still do religiously.
It is pretty odd, this tradition growing up in a household without a lot of traditions. Apart from the ones pressed upon us by the Mormon Church doctrine. None of us children have multiple spouses, stockpile food stores for the coming apocalypse, or the very worst of them all….use white bread. It is a testament to our development that we escaped the churches brainwashing of "all food must be highly processed."
I thought about this while I placed my holiday wreath upon my door. Then I stood back to survey my fantastic wreath. The wreath, as one would expect, then gets compared to the next door neighbors. The Nguyen’s. Oh, man…. I. Hate. Them. With their stinking wreath all made of home-decorated pine cones. Each pine cone individually wrapped with colorful ric-rac trimming. Where do they get off?! Last year, after I placed my silver-glitter dipped "winter-wonder land" wreath on our entry way door, they had the nerve to come back with battery operated garland festooned about their door. I guess money can’t buy taste.
This year I have decided to not descend to their level of one-upmanship. A classic evergreen wreath, deconstructed; if you will. Maybe a bit like Mormon Christ would of carried as he roamed the mid-west.