I'd planned to make the Christmas greenery this weekend. I cut back the honeysuckles and summer flowering clematis at the beginning of December, making a heap as I went along. After stopping for a cup of tea and a gossip with a neighbour, I returned to the prunings heap with fresh eyes. "They'll make rather fine wreaths," I thought, and rescued some huge lengths. They have been hanging on a nail in the tool shed drying off ever since. I planned to twist them into rough circles, and tie in bunches of herbs, trails of ivy, and the red berries from skimmias and hollies. I brought back bundles of chillies from Prague, but don't really want to waste them on outside door wreaths when I could leave them hanging up in the pantry, a constant reminder of a great holiday and the promise of fiery goodness in winter soups.
Then merci beaucoup enfant deux needed taxiing about last night, and our tea and toast and marmite afterwards meant a later night than either of us planned, and left first thing this morning to collect beloved firstborn. So the Christmas greenery can wait until tomorrow. Tired now. All safely gathered home.
Wall sconce outside St Wenceslas' Chapel, St Vitas' Cathedral Prague