When the Bare Branches were Better

Oddly enough, this past summer I found myself much more interested in redecorating inside my home than in being out in the garden.

That was very unusual for me.

Normally, summer pulls me outdoors, but this year I felt myself turning inward instead. It seemed like I was “nesting,” wanting to make our home a little warmer and more inviting for my husband and me, as well as for our kids and family when they visit.

I kept looking around for blank spots or areas we could improve. Not that I feel the need to fill every corner, but I do enjoy creating lovely little places for the eye to land.

One area in our living room, near the TV, had been especially tricky. It’s a small, narrow corner next to the pass-through. One wall held the TV, and the empty wall beside it seemed to be crying out for something tall and graceful.

I’d seen some beautiful faux ficus and olive trees while out shopping, but an eight-foot tree would have cost much more than I wanted to spend.

Then it occurred to me that I could try making my own.

I could cut some branches from outside and somehow attach store-bought faux leaves to them. I already had a beautiful urn I’d purchased several months earlier, and it seemed like the perfect vessel for the project.

So off I went into the backyard to see what I could find.

Down by the brook, we have an alder tree with branches that had just the graceful shape I was looking for. Even better, they were covered with gorgeous little clusters that looked like tiny pinecones.

I loved them immediately.

I grabbed the saw from the shed and, after a few careful cuts, had my eight-foot branches.

My next step was considerably more tedious.

I spent well over an hour removing all the leaves, carefully leaving the stems behind. My plan was to attach the faux leaves to those stems so the finished tree would look as natural as possible.

The little pinecone clusters, however, were staying. There was no question about that.

Once the leaves were gone, I made a few more cuts to vary the branch heights and brought everything inside.

My husband looked at me like I’d lost my mind as I tried to squeeze myself and three very full, very tall branches through the door.

Eventually, we all made it inside.

I arranged the branches in the urn exactly where I wanted them and began trimming a few more—especially the ones that looked as though they might take someone’s eye out!

And then I stopped.

I stood back and really looked at what was already there.

The bare branches, the little pinecone clusters, and the urn all worked together in a way I hadn’t expected. The whole arrangement felt sculptural and natural, and suddenly the faux leaves felt unnecessary.