My seasonal wreaths

To everything there is a season (my favorite verse from Ecclesiastics), and that’s true of my wreaths, too.

I have an old wreath that I change with the seasons. Same basic reed and sticks wreath I’ve had for years. It’s now the welcoming wreath on the white back porch door up the old steep steps with the peeling grey paint to my 2nd floor Sylvania apartment.

This summer I added silk blue and purple hydrangea, red poppies, sunflowers, some white daisies, and a large pink bow. Now that Fall just blew in, the weather has cooled, the days are shorter, the breezes are gently swaying the changing foliage of our trees, so many trees here in Sylvania, I took out the summer flowers and added red, orange and gold leaves, bright yellow marigolds, and a green bow (photo above).

My love of the changing seasons returned during my time in Ukraine. It was one of the reasons I decided I could make the move from Florida, which I loved, up to Sylvania, Ohio. Florida has its seasons, but they are subtle; the palm trees and bougainvilla are always in bloom year round. It’s fantastic for the 6 months of winter, and I relished it while I lived there.

Up here, up North, like in Ukraine, the seasons are distinct and bold. Fall means winter isn’t far behind, but it remains one of my favorite seasons. I love the changing foliage and how the flowers brighten before they die. It's as if a photographer has saturated them with color, dazzling, eye-popping color. The painter of the universe, the transcendent goddess, letting us know she is there. I think Loren is with her now.

I feel an empathy with this season, too: I am afterall in the autumn of my life. Winter’s not far behind, but I’ll enjoy this northern autumn for as long as I can, watching the birds fly south, the squirrels gather acorns for the winter, and the dying of the light as winter whiteness slowly descends.