Life gets busy, but it should never be so busy that you can’t stop for five minutes to make something look pretty. It just feels good. Today after work, I combined my two loves-gardening and crafts-to make our front door a little more appealing.
The grapevine wreath was in the closet completely bare, and the porterweed had once again tripled in size. That girl needed a haircut. Porterweed plants bloom in spikes. Tiny purple flowers open in a cluster along tall textured stems. The rope-like stems are easy to weave in and out of the grapevine, and the only other step is to hang it. Even as the flowers dry, the wreath still looks nice. But even if it only lasts until morning, who cares? It only took five minutes to put together. 


Tag Archives: porterweed
5-minute Craft Project: Porterweed Wreath
Porterweed: The Drama Queen of the Garden
When we planted our butterfly garden, part of the installation was one pretty little blue Porterweed plant.
Less than a year later, and the once petite plant is now a Medusa taking over the patio.
I think it ate the Button sage that was to its right, and the Cassia tree looked to be next. The flowery snakes were starting to slither up through the tree’s branches.
It was tolerable because the blue spikes were so striking. But then the rain came, and its as if the big, blue diva had a tantrum. Almost every flower was dropped to the bricks overnight.
So even though it scratched my skin like a dry loofah to do it, it had to be done – the Porterweed was lopped into manageability. Porterweed is in the Nettle family, aka stinging nettle. The leaves are covered in stubble – fine, itchy, little hairs.
I love anything that’s flowered and anything that’s blue (ask my sister and she’ll gladly tell you about my affinity for Smurfs – can’t wait to take D to see the new movie) but the Porterweed is about to be banished to the only place suited for a Medusa – the corner.
It’s not all bad; this will actually solve three problems at once: One, the Porterweed will have plenty of room to spread out. Two, I’ll never have to touch it again because, Three, it needs to grow tall enough to hide that darn fence board that keeps coming undone.

















