This little run of cards felt like it needed to be made.
I pulled out the laminator to laminate a document, and while I had it out, I decided to laminate a piece of florist paper I’d been saving. That one small experiment led to another, and soon I was looking through the house for more papers worth preserving.
Each piece ultimately began as part of a gift, something already wrapped with intention before I ever touched it. As I worked, I found myself asking a simple question: what if the wrapping becomes the keepsake I could gift forward?

Card One: Gold from a Pear
The gold foil background on the first card comes from the wrapping on a pear my dad sent me because he thought I needed more Vitamin C as I had been sick. It was one of those unexpected gifts that arrives without fanfare and somehow means more for it.
I laminated the gold to preserve the crinkle and light-catching texture. I then die-cut a simple evergreen silhouette from deep green cardstock and used some gold gilding flakes (I was inspired by a holiday card someone had sent us!). The gold peeks through the tree like light caught in branches, irregular and organic. No embellishments, no sentiment on the front. The material carries the meaning.
Card Two: Florals from a Gift Shop Bouquet
The second card uses a floral paper from a gift shop bouquet my partner gave me, soft pinks and muted greens printed on thin tissue. Laminated, the paper gains just enough weight to stand on its own without losing its delicacy.
I kept this one minimal: a winter white Stamp Market botanical die-cut placed slightly off-center, with a few clear embellishments scattered like dew. I’m not sure I nailed the combo of the die cut with the paper, but I still like it. And I got to use this die cut that I got on sale a few years which has sat patiently in my stash waiting for me to notice it!


Card Three: Green from a Friend
The final card uses green tissue paper from a present given by a dear friend. The paper had a subtle, mottled texture that really came alive once laminated. I let that surface be the star.
A white botanical die-cut anchors the lower corner, with a narrow strip of gold at the edge as a quiet nod back to the other cards in the series. I originally had this as an A2 card and I had replaced the card cover front with this laminated panel instead, but it ended about an inch short of the panel. After looking at it for a day or two, I decided what it really wanted to be was a square card so the panel lined up. It’s probably my favorite, though I always say that about the last card I finish.
Hot Tip: Laminating Delicate Pieces
When laminating smaller or irregular pieces, I learned the hard way that they need a little help going through the machine. I now tuck a narrow strip of cardstock along the leading edge inside the laminating pouch. That extra bit of structure keeps everything feeding straight and prevents the pouch from getting pulled in or crunched.
Ask me how I know. Twice. Including one memorable moment that involved taking the laminator apart to rescue a stuck pouch.
A small scrap of cardstock is much easier to deal with than a dismantled machine.
Why Laminate?
Laminating these papers did more than protect them. It gave them permission to be used.
So many gift papers feel “too special” to cut into. Lamination changes that relationship. Once laminated, these fragile, found papers could actually enter my card-making practice instead of hovering on the sidelines, saved but unused. The lamination stabilized them, gave them structure, and made them workable alongside cardstock and dies.
This isn’t about perfection or symmetry. It’s about honoring where the paper came from while letting it move forward into something new. These pieces still carry their original stories, but now they’re doing some work.
This series is also a quiet exercise in using what I already have. Not pristine supplies, not newly purchased materials, but found objects that passed briefly through my hands and could easily have been discarded. Laminating them allowed me to extend their life and purpose in a way that fits how I actually make cards.
It’s a reminder that creativity doesn’t always begin with a blank sheet. Sometimes it begins with paying attention to what’s already there.
And sometimes, the wrapping really is the gift.

































