There is something deeply satisfying about a wreath on the door that you made yourself. It costs almost nothing, it lasts for years if you treat it kindly, and it can be stripped back and dressed again for every season — ivy and berries in winter, seed heads in autumn, dried lavender and cornflowers in high summer. The willow ring underneath is the real work, and once you have mastered that, the rest is pure play.
Willow has been coppiced in Britain for centuries precisely because it does this job so well. Cut a rod in winter and it will bend about as far as you like without snapping, provided it is fresh or properly soaked. It dries hard and pale, holding whatever shape you weave it into.
If you grow your own, you want a basket willow — common osier is the traditional choice, and it puts out long, whippy rods in a single season. If you are buying in, you will usually find brown willow (dried with the bark on) or buff willow (boiled and stripped, so it is paler and more pliable). Brown takes longer to soak but has a lovely rustic warmth; buff is quicker to work and looks smarter if you plan to dress the wreath with ribbons and dried flowers.
A ring of roughly 30cm across suits most front doors, and you will need eight to twelve rods of about 1.2–1.8m to make one.
This is the step people rush, and it is the step that decides whether your wreath looks handcrafted or merely cross. Dry willow needs to be brought back to a supple, leathery state.
Buff willow generally needs three to five days fully submerged. Brown willow is tougher and usually wants one to two weeks. Change the water every couple of days if it starts to smell, and weigh the bundle down with a brick so nothing floats above the surface.
If you have just cut your own rods, you can weave them the same day — fresh willow bends beautifully. Even so, leave them to stand in water overnight. You will know the withies are ready when you can wrap one around your finger into a full circle without it cracking. If it still feels stiff or the bark splits, give it another day.
Work somewhere warm, because cold willow stiffens. Keep a bowl of water beside you and dip the rods as you go.
Do not worry about perfect uniformity. A slightly irregular, hand-woven ring has far more charm than one that looks extruded from a machine, and once it is dressed the small wobbles disappear entirely.
The beauty of a willow base is that it is neutral. Because the ring is bound rather than glued, you can wire fresh or dried material straight into the weave and pull it out again a few months later.
For winter, tuck in sprigs of ivy, dried orange slices, cinnamon sticks and a few lengths of tartan ribbon tied in simple bows. For spring, pussy willow buds, dried daffodils and pale yellow ribbon work beautifully. Summer suits dried lavender, cornflowers, nigella seed heads and honesty — the silvery discs catch the light wonderfully. Autumn, of course, wants teasels, wheat, dried hydrangea and a rust-coloured ribbon.
Attach everything with fine floristry wire or thin garden twine, wiring stems in bunches of three rather than singly. Work around the ring in one direction so it reads as a single sweep, and leave the bottom sixth bare — it is the part nobody sees against the door.
Hang the wreath from a hook screwed into the door rather than a suction cup, which will fail in the first cold snap. Keep it out of the worst of the driving rain if you can; a porch or an overhang will add years to its life.
When the season turns, strip the wreath completely and hang the bare willow ring somewhere dry and airy — a shed rafter is ideal. Avoid damp garages and anywhere mice can reach, as they will happily nibble the bark. Brought in dry each year, a well-made willow ring will serve you for a decade or more, quietly improving with age as it darkens to a soft honey brown.
And that, really, is the pleasure of it: one afternoon's weaving in January, and a door that changes with the year for the next ten.
Leave A Comment