Marcus, my godson, has a big interview Monday, so tonight I brewed a strong pot of chamomile, let it cool, and had him wash his hands in it while he said out loud what he wants. Chamomile has always been a luck herb in our family, for money, for jobs, and for card games my uncles would rather I didn't mention.
He asked if he could drink the rest. I said baby, it's just chamomile, it's for whatever you need. He drank it, washed his hands again for good measure, and went to bed early. That's a win before Monday even gets here.
Taught my granddaughter Lily to read tea leaves Sunday afternoon. Loose black tea with a pinch of dried chamomile from the garden, wide white cups, no strainer. Drink it down to a spoonful, swirl three times toward you with your left hand, turn it over onto the saucer, count to seven.
Her cup had a very clear bird near the rim, which in my mother's book means news on its way, and soon. Mine had what I generously called a lantern and Lily called 'a trash can.'
An hour later her best friend phoned to say she's moving back from Ohio. Lily now considers me a professional. I am not correcting her.
A jar of calm for the driving test
Eli, my grandson, takes his driving test Thursday and he's been a wreck. So yesterday we made a little calm jar together at the kitchen table: dried chamomile from the garden, a pinch of rosemary for clear thinking, a few grains of rice so nothing gets "stuck," and a folded note in his own handwriting. He chose the words himself: "Steady hands, eyes up, no curbs."
He laughed at me the entire time, then quietly put the jar in his backpack. I'll take it.
The real magic was twenty minutes with a sixteen-year-old who put his phone down. Practical note: the parallel parking still needs work. Spells meet you halfway.
A dream pillow from an orphaned sock
Lost the matching sock months ago, so the survivor has been promoted. Inside: a handful of dried lavender, some chamomile, and rose petals saved from the bouquet my sister brought for my birthday, all wrapped in a scrap of muslin first so nothing sheds. Tied off with garden twine.
It lives under my pillowcase, not inside it, because I learned the hard way that lavender in your ear is not restful.
Have I had prophetic dreams? No. Have I had gentler ones and fallen asleep faster? Honestly, yes. I'll take it. If you're sensitive to any of these, swap in whatever smells like comfort to you.
Wind-down tea for a day sleeper
Working nights means my "bedtime" is 10am, with the sun blazing and the neighbour's leaf blower going. So I've built a little wind-down potion for sleeping by day.
One teaspoon of chamomile, a scant pinch of lavender (any more and it tastes like soap, trust me), a few leaves of lemon balm from the window box and a drip of honey. Before I drink it I hold the mug close and say one question into the steam, the thing I'd like to dream about. Then I write that question at the top of a fresh page in my journal.
I don't know if the dreams answer. I do know I've kept that journal since I was nine, and the questions alone tell a pretty good life story.