It’s November 20th 2024. Snow is fairly thick on the ground and temperatures are well below freezing. I’m under two blankets and the dog for extra warmth. Unusually for me, wreath classes are done and a few important wreaths have even been delivered. My hands are punctured by the juniper spikes and I need a lot more tea.

Having just been Christmas shopping in Haworth and with the scent of oranges wafting in from the kitchen as Mr Simply makes more mince pies for guests tomorrow I’m feeling a touch nostalgic. I’ve looked back over wreath classes in bygone times, as well as the photos from one last week and it’s time to wax lyrical.

If you’re about to do your own wreath workshops I hope some of what follows might help.

I started, like many, with wreath workshops. Well over ten years ago now. Back then there was almost a secret recipe for wreaths. No-one but florists knew how to do them, or where to get all of ‘the stuff’ from. The Amazon floristry section didn’t sell all the magic accoutrements such as ‘reel’ wire and wreath rings were hard to acquire.

Year on year we did them. With groups who would book their dates for the following year over the vast selection of warm canapés brought up the workshop stairs by Mrs B. Delicious morsels that marked the interlude between the moss and foliage section and the part where the wreaths are adorned with whatever bits and pieces are in fashion that year. I’ve been there for the orange slices; the tiny wreath fairy lights; the succulents and the hellebores. I’ve been at big tables where Jo Malone lime and basil mingled with pomegranate noir and I’ve seen the heels on boots go from 3 inches of tapered suede back around to Dr Martens. My heart will always lie with a dangling pine cone, and I’m forever grateful to Miss Pickering for teaching me those. 

You want to know don’t you? Search the hardware shops (or the aforementioned on-line emporium) for ‘screw eye hooks’. Yes, the things you use in the back of picture frames. Using all of your strength and a little patience, screw them into the base of your pine cones. You can now run some ribbon through the hook and dangle the cones wherever you like.

The form of our wreath classes has seen several iterations. One year we taught ‘how to run your own wreath workshop’ with Brigitte from Moss and Stone. One class in Norfolk, one class in Yorkshire. Huge wreaths and twiggy ones. One year, with Rachel Scott from Hedgerow, we did table centres and wreaths and ended with a pub lunch. The one that was truly different was the full day in which guests made wreaths and dog collars with @catherineedwardsleather. 

And then the pandemic changed it all. All of the ‘pivoting’ meant that wreath kits went in the post and the magical secrets of wreath making became common knowledge. People discovered it’s not hard to go round in a circle provided you have the right equipment. If Kirsty Allsop could make a wreath anyone could.

One thing that never changes though is the human need for contact. It’s OK to make your own wreath at home, but it’s so much better to have a good chat whilst you’re doing it, and if you can throw moss on the floor and not have to sweep pine needles for days then it’s better to go out.

And so we have it…..the magic ingredient for wreath making. It’s not just the quality of the foliage, or the size of the wreath ring. It’s not only the ribbon (well, maybe it is) and the tiny bell that make a perfect wreath. It’s the place in which you make it.

There’s nowhere more wintry and nostalgic than the village of Haworth. Set high on a Yorkshire hillside, surrounded by moors and views and very often shrouded in an atmosphere that’s part mist, fog, woodsmoke and steam from the nearby Worth Valley Railway, there’s nowhere better as a backdrop for a winter class. As I write those words I’m thinking that there are parts of Scandinavia that would work very well, but I do like to be able to pack my collapsible sweeping brush into the car and get there quite quickly. 

As The Night is Darkening is a winter class in which we have tried to gather together as much early winter fuel as possible, in order to stoke the fires of creativity that burn brightly in many, and at least smoulder in others. If you’re called Angela and prefer ashes, this isn’t the class for you. And also a name of such length is hard for Éva Németh to ice into a Christmas tree-shaped ginger biscuit. 

For those who love winter (that’s definitely Éva) it’s the perfect way to start the season. I’ll not spoil this by saying that me and Jill Shaddock prefer spring.  It’s a day to put on your best knitwear and boots. Make a careful note about that. Choice of footwear is important, not just for negotiating cobbled streets, wonky well-worn steps and gravestones, but because when Éva takes photographs of wreaths she often focuses on the floor. You’ll see soon.

We went a little early this year. On the first day where it felt properly cold and where there was every chance of fog on the moors. The first day it was truly winter.

As we set up the class from the top room of The Old Post Office, the whole village was gearing up for the festive season. Windows scrubbed in readiness for their twinkling lights. Fir trees set high above each shop soon to be aglow. The new winter cocktail menu was being tested that day, as well as the more extensive one just down the hill at The Hawthorn. No point me getting ideas, I was driving back home across the moors with the compost and the rattling buckets later on.

At 1pm promptly in came our guests, ruddy cheeked from the Yorkshire air and raring to go. They all understood about cameras and light, and the need to make something good before the day turned to night.

By 4pm the front room was full of wreaths. Gorgeous, lush ones, full of foliage. Made on the most exquisite handcrafted willow wreath rings from Sarah and Marcus at Hopewood Baskets. A few guests took time for another quick mince pie. Others wisely found their coats. 

From her study room overlooking The Parsonage (the one with the window from where Branwell Brönte would look for Anne appearing with a candle to indicate their father was in bed and he could return home drunk) Éva gave her own signal that time was marching on, the light was fading and everyone should come outside to take photos….and be photographed if so desired. She blew out her own candles and left three cocktails under the close guard of a couple of nutcracker soldiers.

Trailing their ribboned wreaths, off they all went into the village. The faint tinkling of tiny bells signalling where they could be found. It turned out that the best light that afternoon – the slanting winter light – was to be found in the graveyard. Nowhere finer for atmosphere.

Returning to the warmth of the snug for cocktails, there was much chatter before a candlelit dinner in which talk turned to…..dangling pine cones of course.

All photos by Éva Németh https://www.evanemeth.com/

Useful things: 

Foliage List For Wreaths:

Fir of some description, preferably a few types (ideally nice soft blueish)
Yew
Juniper 
Hemlock 
Thyme 
Larch
Bracken (if you are brave)

Places for ‘stuff’: 

Ribbons – this year we used ribbons from The Linen Garden https://www.thelinengarden.co.uk, but you might know I’m also a big fan of VV Rouleaux https://www.vvrouleaux.com/
Bells, wire etc….you could start at Amazon if you don’t have access to a wholesaler.

Packing List: 

Venue: The Old Post Office, Haworth https://www.hawortholdpostoffice.co.uk/

Guests: 
Charlotte Brierley @frenchblueflorals
Jenny Douglas @wildwood.floraldesign
Susan Morris @suzybuddy
Storm Postlethwaite @flowersbybotanicalstorm
Gayle Halstead @naturedsecrets
Annabel Anderson @thecontentedmole
Rebecca @meadowsatmosslane
Amy Bell @hamseybelle

Assistance and foliage: Jill Shaddock @theyorkshireflowerpatch
Foliage: @highcroftnurseries
Dried flowers: @grownandmade