Martha Stewart, I ain't. I regularly sent my children to visit our friend Ingrid when they were small because Ingrid knew how to do crafts. I knew how to make messes with craft supplies. I figrued kids needed to be able to do both, so between Ingrid and I, they learned about product and process.
I have an impulse to do crafts, mind you. I walk around our local Michael's craft store and marvel that Some People Know What To Do With These Things. But I am not that people.
And that is why the wreath hanging on my front door could be classified as a minor miracle. Because I made it my own self.
It started out before St. Patricks Day. I decided our front door needed sprucing up, needed some wearin-o'-the-green. I looked online, gulped at the prices and then had a mad, rogue thought: perhaps I could make my own wreath.
I saw one I liked: with felt rosettes in different shades of green, adorned with a bow. I looked up How to Make Felt Rosettes, and lo, it seemed possible.
I rounded up scissors, felt and a hot glue gun; cut out circles of varying sizes, cut them into spirals from the outside in, wound them from tail to centre, dabbing them (and my poor thumbs) with hot glue every few twists. Behold -- a rosette! A half-decent rosette. And then, a scattering of rosettes, a pile, a bouquet. From there, it was easy -- arrange and glue on, add jaunty shamrock bow and voila.
Then, when spring and Easter demanded more colour, I made yellow, pink, purple and white rosettes, wedged them into place (so they would be removable next time -- how crafty, n'est-ce pas?) and changed the bow.
Not one person -- save my daughter -- has really noticed. I really should invite Ingrid over to see it. But for now, I find I hold my shoulders back a little more proudly, recognizing that the impossible has been achieved.
If that's not a miracle, it's certainly at least A Good Thing.
* A title only an Agent Provocateur could love, right Chuck?