12 Wreaths of Christmas

Master florist Agnes Stillfried finds inspiration in nature.

(Photo by Adam Ewing)

An unpaved drive winds between the fenced fields of Travelers Rest Farm. With horses to the left and a gaggle of geese on the right, the approach feels timeless. Behind the main house and a guest house (where George Washington once slept on his way to Mount Vernon), a large shed, sweet with climbing honeysuckle, is hung with wreaths—lots and lots of wreaths.

Owner and master florist Agnes Stillfried greets with clippers in hand, beckoning me into her workshop where a table is strewn with leaves, berries, shells, and feathers. Buckets of materials from dried flowers to bark are stacked along the opposite side. Garlands and wreaths hang on every inch of wall and dangle from the ceiling. They’re made of magnolia leaves, oyster shells, acorns—some painted robin’s egg blue—and sweetgum seed pods. The combinations are endless. (VaWreathMaker.com)


Why Wreaths?

“The wreath is the never-ending circle of life,” Stillfried tells me. The ancient Greeks used them in funerals for the fallen. Early Christians placed them at the graves of virgin martyrs. Today’s Christmas wreaths date to the 16th century, when Christians adopted them from the pagan Yule festivals celebrated in Germany and Scandinavia to mark the winter solstice. 

For Stillfried, however, the wreath is her canvas. “My mother is a master gardener,” she says, smiling. “She got me into wreath making because I was 16 and had no idea what I wanted to do.” The big farm she grew up on in Germany, between Hamburg and Düsseldorf, offered a bounty of natural materials that fueled her floral creativity.

In Germany, the path to master florist is rigorous: “A floral degree takes three years—two days of school every week while working in a florist store. You have to pass an oral and a practical exam, where students make a funeral wreath and a bridal bouquet. Then, it’s five years of working in the field before you can apply to a Masters Degree school. I did that in Hamburg,” Stillfried says, “then you can open a store, go into education, or work for a public garden.” 

Stillfried came to Virginia in 1993, married in ’94, and settled in her husband’s hometown of Scottsville. She ran a floral shop in Charlottesville, but didn’t like feeling tied down. “I’d rather work from home and have the freedom, have all the materials around me.” After selling her wreaths at farmers markets, she now sells them online. Dried flower wreaths are “everyone’s favorite,” she says, “I put them on Etsy, and they’re sold in seconds.” After 25 years at Travelers Rest Farm, located in St. Stephen’s Church, 20 miles west of Tappahannock, she continues to find inspiration in her surroundings.


Always Innovating

Stillfried’s creations are more than bits and bobs found in the yard and tied onto a frame. They’re art pieces made from Virginia’s landscape. At nearby farms, she collects weeds that others would overlook. She knows hunters who gift her with the antlers and bones they find to incorporate into her designs.

“I love to develop new things. I love a contrast or harmony of structures or colors.” One wreath she shows me is made completely of mushrooms, inspired by a ’shroom circle she spotted while walking in the woods. “Always look around and see what you can shape into a circle,” she advises. In the garden, Stillfried gathers rosemary, lavender, hydrangeas, and oak leaves. 

When hanging a wreath, look beyond the door, she advises. “There’s no right or wrong.” Depending on the size, hang it on a wall, on a door, a gate, shutters, or a lamp post. She varies the shapes, too. “We can make an oval wreath or a square one, usually to put around a mirror.”

Never one to turn down a commission, she loves “the challenge of ‘what can we do with this?’ how can we change it around?” It’s a collaboration. “Sometimes the best wreath or creation is inspired through the customer; they come with an idea and it turns into something exciting.”


Immersed in Nature

Stillfried can pull a wreath together in 40 minutes, dressed-up or plain. “I guess I’ve made so many, it’s automatic.” But anyone can do it, too, she insists. And while most store-bought wreaths use a wire frame, Stillfried prefers padded hay: “It lasts longer and can be reused when you want to change the greenery and accessories.”

Beginners usually make two key mistakes: “They choose materials that don’t last long enough, and then they don’t tie the materials tight enough,” she notes. For Stillfried, wreaths should reflect the nature we see every day. “You want to create it as three-dimentional as possible to make it lifelike.” By breaking up the line of flowers or leaves with “materials of different shapes and sizes underneath, you create depth,” she says.

Her favorite winter wreath is made from the remains of a “harvest wreath.” Stillfried says, “It’s composed with greens and pine cones, pods, dried fruits, and nuts.” It’s about reusing what the landscape’s given, about seeing what’s there. “You have to immerse yourself in nature to do this. Your wreaths should be a replica of sorts—watch and see how nature is producing stuff and how it’s growing.” 


Wreath Construction

For Agnes Stillfried, wreath-making is all about craft and practice. With the right supplies, like floral tape, wire, and a glue gun, seasonally foraged material can make the most spectacular wreaths. What you’ll need:

(Photo by Adam Ewing)

The frame: Padded hay bound with floral tape, available online or at craft stores. It should be no thicker than what your hand can hold. 

Main body: Choose greens, like magnolia leaves or branchlets of cryptomeria, fir, cedar, or pine, and secure them onto the frame with wire.

Decorations: Use floral pins or hot glue to attach add-ons like cockscomb, pine tags, shells, or nuts. 


On the Hunt 

Keep your eyes peeled for easily foraged material you can find throughout the seasons:

Winter: Magnolia leaves, greens (like cryptomeria or cedar), brown pine tags, berries

Spring: Dried flowers, oyster and clam shells, moss, green pine tags

Summer: Pokeberry, milo/sorghum, hydrangea

Fall: Dried flowers, chestnuts, pecans, cornhusks, corn cobs, pine tags


This article originally appeared in the December 2022 issue.

Konstantin Rega
Konstantin Rega is the former digital editor of Virginia Living. A graduate of East Anglia’s creative writing program and the University of Kent, he is now the digital content producer at the Jamestown-Yorktown Foundation. He has been published by the Richmond Times-Dispatch, Poetry Salzburg Review, Publishers Weekly, and Treblezine.