I remember walking up to her door but I couldn’t bring myself to knock. I just stared at her year-round wreath, nondescript with bits of plastic left from wherever they sell these twine circles with a blue ribbon elegantly cascading down past the knocker. I left the minimalistic package, marked with not but a half-hearted “Merry Christmas” on her step and walked home. I never was one for goodbyes.
This word reminds me of Christmas. Christmas is my favorite time of the year. I love Christmas! I love the candy canes. I also love the hot coco. I cant think of anything else to write.
My mom has many wreaths at Christmas time. She also has some for spring and summer, fall and winter. With many lights and red and green colors. You hang them on your door.
On my front door at Christmas. I love wreaths because thay mean Christmas is near and snow and wonderful things like that. Just beautiful. So many colors and styles.
christmas candy cane hot cocoa door green red sparkles happy holidays
pine tree pine cones presents ornaments oatmeal sweaters coffee hot cider slippers socks candy
Don’t let your Wreath affect your water damage control..Temperatures are changing so please beware of the hazards with water and fire damage. Your Wreath could be affected.
The Christmas season has come and mother has been putting up several decorations lately. The ones she loves the most though are the wreaths. They’re simply beautiful and they hang on each door delicately waiting for someone to come by and admire it. They smelled simply wonderful as well.Even though some people didn’t care too much for it my family loves it.
The wreath sat on the top of the old brick fireplace, alongside the crimson red stockings hanging on the mantle. A blazing fire roared to life in the tiny little fireplace, while a couple sat and talked about life. The winds howled outside and the rains pounded on the windows. They did not have power, but the two hot chocolates that they were drinking and each other were much better than the TV blasting useless comedies and sitcoms.
The wreath was finally hanging on the door,
signifying the beginning of another time.
This year things would be a little different,
since I didn’t have you by my side.
But love works in mysterious ways,
and he knocked on my door later that day,
telling me the wreath had fallen down,
and managing to take away my frown.
A word which here means, “green ring of fake plant material that supposedly conveys Christmas spirit, or is currently hung on the neck of the Conner’s dog, and appears to be choking him.” It was a pleasant distraction for the Conners as I was sneaking into their house to steal an item valued upwards of a great amount of money.
The wreath hung proudly to its mantle; its lights shining bright in the dark night. It was Christmas Eve, and the only sound was the whistle of the gentle breeze outside. A light snow was also falling outside, slowly but surely covering even the steepest of rooftops. Suddenly,a loud thump could be heard on top of the roof above the wreath. What could it possibly be? The answer. That’s up to you and your imagination!
I stopped in front of his door and the wreath of red christmas flowers stared at me. As if they were saying ‘please, don’t knock, don’t ruin this special day by saying your apologies’. I didn’t listen the flowers and knocked on the dark heavy door. I waited for a couple of minutes and they, he opened up.
A wreath for the hag: twelve fiends’ heads, with fully articulated jaws. They speak of things she wishes to forget, but even hags must remember the worst. She drifts tinsel over their skulls and whispers carols in a low voice, and they growl back in strange tongues. Twelve fiends, twelve villages, and still the hag searches for the lost girl…
Jason laughed and snatched the wreath from his mother’s hand. He bounded up to the front door and hung it up carefully from a bent nail. Humming a Christmas carol under his breath he gave the woman a jaunty wave before setting out into the snowy streets. He didn’t seem to mind the cold and vibrated with easy energy. He started to run, then faster and faster until he was out of sight.
An ornamental design usually used during the Christmas season. It forms a ring of pine needles that can be touched up with a ribbon or lighting decorations. They are commonly seen hung on doors and windows where the outside world can see.
The wreath hung on the door, the smell of Christmas was overwhelming. I could hear the laughter and cheer that comes with the holidays coming from inside. I wasn’t ready to step in just yet.
we hung it up and stepped back to look at it, mugs in our hands. Oh, he would have loved it! said Meg. In a strange way, she would have, too, said Bill.
The wreath on the front door was in disarray, just hanging on it’s nails. The door was opened, a bloody hand print staining the wood right above the door knob.
The wreath lay on the doorstep, just a few steps from where Rose was standing. It was rather odd, this wreath. Instead of the merry Christmas colors, the wreath was adorned with black roses. Or were they only withered flowers? Rose bent down to take a closer look. Suddenly, she felt a dull pain in her skull. A large thud, she wasn’t sure if it came from the external world, or if something inside her had all of a sudden plummeted, crashed to the ground in surrender, shattering itself like shards of ice. The wreath, the macabre wreath, was what she saw before she fell face down on the cold ice coated ground.
The lights flickered slightly, then were off. Frustrated, he pulled the cord out of the wall and pushed it back again, haphazardly. This time, they flickered and stayed, just for a second, then went off. Now, dad wasn’t a ‘grab me a saw and chop down some trees to build me a house’, kind of man, and he knew this. Not being able to figure out a simple electricity circuit on the Christmas lights really made him feel less of a father, or a ‘man’, that he was.
He looked up at us, back at the tree, then back at us, and smiled. “It’s just a different kind of tree this year.”
“Dad it looks stupid. I said, throwing down the garland wreath in my hands and crossing my arms, “you seriously think this is okay? DAAAD, Patricia Liversworth has a tree 20 feet high with a hundred different coloured lights! What am I going to do if she comes over, huh??”
Barely able to breathe, Serena gently laid a wreath of violets at the foot of the coffin. That’s what she’d asked for in the fog of drugs and suffering of her final days. Serena’s hands clawed at the smooth mahogany, palms flat, fingers spread wide. Reaching out. Wanting to pull her back. Knowing she lay there, invisible, unreachable, beautiful. She’d never see her again. That face that cooed her, consoled her and counselled her through a thousand agonies.
The congregation of mourners twitched uncomfortably, looked away.
The horror welled up inside of her and found its way out in gut wretching sobs. Mumma. My Mumma. Don’t go.
The wreath, bright and green upon the otherwise ordinary door, gave the whole front of the house a light Christmas-y feel, without being as overwhelming as a full lighted display.
There was nothing out there in the snow. It was all completely silent. Jenny could feel it itching in her bones; the urge to disturb the peace.
With an evil glint in her eye, she bounded to the closet to don her winter clothes. As she was in a bit of a hurry, she got her buttons mixed up on her coat, and didn’t bother to fix them. Once she was ready she bolted out the door. The Christmas wreath hanging on the other side swished as the door settled back into place after being carelessly slammed behind the child.
A round decoration of pure hell. It will notify the peasants that you are a person with emotions and sympathy. Do not under any circumstances acquire such an item
I remember walking up to her door but I couldn’t bring myself to knock. I just stared at her year-round wreath, nondescript with bits of plastic left from wherever they sell these twine circles with a blue ribbon elegantly cascading down past the knocker. I left the minimalistic package, marked with not but a half-hearted “Merry Christmas” on her step and walked home. I never was one for goodbyes.
Christmas time decorations family, friends, fun, hot coco, cookies, love!!!!
Christmas wreaths are for christmas. They are green and sometimes they have ribbon. Christmas is fun.
Christmas happiness love florists leaves! hot chocolate! I love Christmas it makes me and others happy! wreath a beautiful decoration
Christmas decoration yay
Christmas decoration
Christmas wreaths are for christmas. They are green and sometimes they have ribbon.
its a great time for this word since theres only nine days till Christmas. and we have a couple of these hung up. it looks good and I like it
Christmas, hot coco, hanging over the table
This word reminds me of Christmas. Christmas is my favorite time of the year. I love Christmas! I love the candy canes. I also love the hot coco. I cant think of anything else to write.
My mom has many wreaths at Christmas time. She also has some for spring and summer, fall and winter. With many lights and red and green colors. You hang them on your door.
Christmas tree decoration
wreathes Christmas I don’t know flowers? holly braches fir trees !!!!! I have no clue what I am doing
Christmas, door, greenery, been around for a long time, jesus birth, fun, pretty, reminds everyone of Christmas.
On my front door at Christmas. I love wreaths because thay mean Christmas is near and snow and wonderful things like that. Just beautiful. So many colors and styles.
christmas candy cane hot cocoa door green red sparkles happy holidays
pine tree pine cones presents ornaments oatmeal sweaters coffee hot cider slippers socks candy
Christmas
earthy
circle
tree
happens
warmth
flammable
old
tradishonal
Don’t let your Wreath affect your water damage control..Temperatures are changing so please beware of the hazards with water and fire damage. Your Wreath could be affected.
The Christmas season has come and mother has been putting up several decorations lately. The ones she loves the most though are the wreaths. They’re simply beautiful and they hang on each door delicately waiting for someone to come by and admire it. They smelled simply wonderful as well.Even though some people didn’t care too much for it my family loves it.
The wreath sat on the top of the old brick fireplace, alongside the crimson red stockings hanging on the mantle. A blazing fire roared to life in the tiny little fireplace, while a couple sat and talked about life. The winds howled outside and the rains pounded on the windows. They did not have power, but the two hot chocolates that they were drinking and each other were much better than the TV blasting useless comedies and sitcoms.
The wreath was finally hanging on the door,
signifying the beginning of another time.
This year things would be a little different,
since I didn’t have you by my side.
But love works in mysterious ways,
and he knocked on my door later that day,
telling me the wreath had fallen down,
and managing to take away my frown.
A word which here means, “green ring of fake plant material that supposedly conveys Christmas spirit, or is currently hung on the neck of the Conner’s dog, and appears to be choking him.” It was a pleasant distraction for the Conners as I was sneaking into their house to steal an item valued upwards of a great amount of money.
She went to the cemetery today and although she did not take a wreath she took flowers to mark where her father was laid to rest.
The wreath hung proudly to its mantle; its lights shining bright in the dark night. It was Christmas Eve, and the only sound was the whistle of the gentle breeze outside. A light snow was also falling outside, slowly but surely covering even the steepest of rooftops. Suddenly,a loud thump could be heard on top of the roof above the wreath. What could it possibly be? The answer. That’s up to you and your imagination!
I stopped in front of his door and the wreath of red christmas flowers stared at me. As if they were saying ‘please, don’t knock, don’t ruin this special day by saying your apologies’. I didn’t listen the flowers and knocked on the dark heavy door. I waited for a couple of minutes and they, he opened up.
A wreath for the hag: twelve fiends’ heads, with fully articulated jaws. They speak of things she wishes to forget, but even hags must remember the worst. She drifts tinsel over their skulls and whispers carols in a low voice, and they growl back in strange tongues. Twelve fiends, twelve villages, and still the hag searches for the lost girl…
Jason laughed and snatched the wreath from his mother’s hand. He bounded up to the front door and hung it up carefully from a bent nail. Humming a Christmas carol under his breath he gave the woman a jaunty wave before setting out into the snowy streets. He didn’t seem to mind the cold and vibrated with easy energy. He started to run, then faster and faster until he was out of sight.
life or death. a new beginning in life with the still unknown partner or a new beginning in heaven or hell.
An ornamental design usually used during the Christmas season. It forms a ring of pine needles that can be touched up with a ribbon or lighting decorations. They are commonly seen hung on doors and windows where the outside world can see.
The wreath hung on the door, the smell of Christmas was overwhelming. I could hear the laughter and cheer that comes with the holidays coming from inside. I wasn’t ready to step in just yet.
we hung it up and stepped back to look at it, mugs in our hands. Oh, he would have loved it! said Meg. In a strange way, she would have, too, said Bill.
She gazed at me with eyes devoid of emotion, picturesque statuesque perfection in her wreath of roses and sharp thorns.
The wreath on the front door was in disarray, just hanging on it’s nails. The door was opened, a bloody hand print staining the wood right above the door knob.
Wreath, wealth, want, stealth, wrung, wrong, right, rite. Wreath.
The wreath lay on the doorstep, just a few steps from where Rose was standing. It was rather odd, this wreath. Instead of the merry Christmas colors, the wreath was adorned with black roses. Or were they only withered flowers? Rose bent down to take a closer look. Suddenly, she felt a dull pain in her skull. A large thud, she wasn’t sure if it came from the external world, or if something inside her had all of a sudden plummeted, crashed to the ground in surrender, shattering itself like shards of ice. The wreath, the macabre wreath, was what she saw before she fell face down on the cold ice coated ground.
The lights flickered slightly, then were off. Frustrated, he pulled the cord out of the wall and pushed it back again, haphazardly. This time, they flickered and stayed, just for a second, then went off. Now, dad wasn’t a ‘grab me a saw and chop down some trees to build me a house’, kind of man, and he knew this. Not being able to figure out a simple electricity circuit on the Christmas lights really made him feel less of a father, or a ‘man’, that he was.
He looked up at us, back at the tree, then back at us, and smiled. “It’s just a different kind of tree this year.”
“Dad it looks stupid. I said, throwing down the garland wreath in my hands and crossing my arms, “you seriously think this is okay? DAAAD, Patricia Liversworth has a tree 20 feet high with a hundred different coloured lights! What am I going to do if she comes over, huh??”
Barely able to breathe, Serena gently laid a wreath of violets at the foot of the coffin. That’s what she’d asked for in the fog of drugs and suffering of her final days. Serena’s hands clawed at the smooth mahogany, palms flat, fingers spread wide. Reaching out. Wanting to pull her back. Knowing she lay there, invisible, unreachable, beautiful. She’d never see her again. That face that cooed her, consoled her and counselled her through a thousand agonies.
The congregation of mourners twitched uncomfortably, looked away.
The horror welled up inside of her and found its way out in gut wretching sobs. Mumma. My Mumma. Don’t go.
The wreath, bright and green upon the otherwise ordinary door, gave the whole front of the house a light Christmas-y feel, without being as overwhelming as a full lighted display.
There was nothing out there in the snow. It was all completely silent. Jenny could feel it itching in her bones; the urge to disturb the peace.
With an evil glint in her eye, she bounded to the closet to don her winter clothes. As she was in a bit of a hurry, she got her buttons mixed up on her coat, and didn’t bother to fix them. Once she was ready she bolted out the door. The Christmas wreath hanging on the other side swished as the door settled back into place after being carelessly slammed behind the child.
A round decoration of pure hell. It will notify the peasants that you are a person with emotions and sympathy. Do not under any circumstances acquire such an item