Rachel Bostwick

Professional Book Design for Independent Authors

Rachel Bostwick

romeo + juliet

by

Hands

she sits, resting peacefully on the couch;
he’s in the other room, bent over a desk.
she’s looking back over the years.
she finds nothing lacking.

her skin is leathery and wrinkled;
though once it was fine and smooth.
she was once a true beauty.
her eyes are as bright as ever.

her bright brown eyes dancing, lit up with a hidden light;
cheeks warming at the fire of remembered passions.
she held the world in smooth brown hands.
now rough and calloused and ready for sleep.

in the back of her mind are darker memories;
bitterness, jealousy, mistrust, loneliness and longing.
smoothed over by forgiveness and time.
covered over by abiding love.

she hears him shuffling in the study, mumbling;
deep thoughts from a heavy book troubling him.
he was always after seeking knowledge.
but there was always time for loving her.

she coughs, a dry hack bending her frail frame;
he runs in and places his hand on her forehead.
he looks at her with love that never died.
she looks back up at him and smiles.

that look passes between them, that look…
the look that made her fall in love.
once it held promises of joy to come.
now it holds warm memories, so many.

she coughs; with concern, he sits down;
takes her smaller, roughened hand in his own.
he smooths it tenderly –
sweet hand that smoothed away his pain.
sweet hand that rocked the cradles of his children.
sweet hand that worked and loved and played
with fingers locked in his.

a soft shudder and a quiet, shallow breath;
a long look and a word that dies on the tip of her tongue.
she lived long and happy with nothing lacking.

but he’s left to die alone.

Best Friend

by

We move like the chase of day and night,
I the dark and you the light.
Each follows in the other’s path.
One to cry and one to laugh,

One for night and one for day.
Don’t listen when the strangers say,
“This love, too, will pass away.”
I stand beside you, come what may.

Young couple in love

Meet Me in the Moonlight

by

The sky in the great hall was a bright blue, sunny and clear. Alice smiled up at the messenger fairies swooping down with the packages. She wasn’t expecting anything, but the brilliant spring day was affecting her so that she was full of light and joy.

And love.

After all the messengers had delivered their packages, a single sparrow spiraled down and landed on Alice’s shoulder. Alice had never before seen a sparrow deliver mail, but there was a tiny parchment roll gripped in the sparrow’s foot. She took the parchment, and before she could even say ‘thanks’ the sparrow was gone.

The parchment was a soft eggshell white with a spiky black script. She knew the handwriting very well. Her heart missed a beat as she read the verse written there:

**

Meet me in the moonlight
Where children fear to tread
Where wolves and centaurs gather
And satyrs make their bed.

No trodden path will guide you,
No brilliant lights will glow.
Just listen for my whisper,
And you’ll see where to go.

Don’t let your soul be troubled,
Just let your heart be led.
Find me in the moonlight,
And you and I will wed.

Yes, meet me in the moonlight,
Tonight we shall be wed.

**

It was a long, long morning. She dozed through History and made a glaringly obvious mistake in Maths. But nothing was worse than Potions. Her Draught of Desire was a jeweled tone of purple when it ought to have been a glowing red. All her classmates looked to her purple mixture with dismay – why wasn’t theirs purple? This of course led to much experimentation, including her brother Herbert trying to charm his purple to match hers. Havoc ensued.

“Detention, Miss Jones. Please stay after. Everyone else is dismissed.”

One by one, they filed out, Jon and Leon giving her empathetic glances as they left. Herbert was the last to leave. He gave her a smart wink and shut the door behind him.

Silence descended on the classroom. He towered above her and held her in place with a long, thoughtful gaze. She felt herself beginning to tremble. He slowly took her hand into his and touched his lips to the inside of her hand. His words were simple but they resonated deep within her. “Come here tonight. Look on my desk.” Then he nodded politely and walked away.

It was going to be a long, long afternoon.

**

Begin at the beginning –
I know you will remember.
The place where we first lingered,
It happened in September.

The moment you first touched me,
I knew I had been blessed.
But even at that moment,
How could I have guessed

That of all my earthly blessings,
You would become the best.

**

A parchment that matched the one she had received at breakfast lay open on his desk. She read it quickly and needed no further explanation. She remembered that day with the clarity of a photograph. She had wandered away from Hogsmeade, wearied by Leon and his girlfriend bickering and Jon’s mooning over whatever female he had been interested in at the time. She wandered aimlessly over the grounds, around the lake, and into the fringes of the forest.

There she saw him, lying in a bed of leaves staring at the gray autumn sky. He became a human being at that moment, she realized, no longer a teacher or a grown-up or a spy. His stern face was relaxed, his eyes lightly closed, his breathing shallow and slow. Possessed by someone other than herself, she leaned down and touched his forehead to wake him.

And instead of snarling or scolding, he sighed.

They talked for an hour and became the most unlikely of friends.

She shook herself from the reverie. It wasn’t a long walk to the little clearing in the woods, and it was one she had taken many times last year, her sixth year. They had met there many times, both by chance and by design.

Laying in the grass was another scroll, a smaller one, attached to a stake in the grass.

**

Between the woods and water,
There stands a lonely tree,
I know you will remember what
She says for you and me.

For this our happy union
She’d witness if she could,
A. J. + O.P., eternally,
Carved deep into her wood.

**

She strolled over to the tree – their tree. A birch tree, stubbornly growing strong despite the cold climate. She hadn’t been there when he carved it, but he had known that she would find it all the same. She lovingly traced the letters he had carved into the bark – their initials. It was childish and romantic, and she had known at that moment that she was in love with him, and that her love would grow strong in spite of the dark times and contrary social circumstances.

Below their initials, a message was carved lightly into the bark:
Twelve steps towards Polaris,
Then forty to the night.
Kneel down and bless the pillow
Where I laid my head that night.

She read the words aloud and they vanished from the surface.

Twelve steps north and forty west, and Alice stood exactly where she had known she would. This year – her seventh – had wrought a change in their relationship. With the increase of attacks on wizards and witches at the end of the summer, Alice had fled to the school for safety. She enjoyed two blissful weeks of poring through the library and roaming over the grounds. She had been afraid that he would forget her over the summer, but if anything he seemed to crave her company more than ever. They met up in another clearing, a little deeper in the woods, to read and to sit close together. On the final night of summer, she snuck out and met him after dark. They slept innocently in one another’s arms. He had laid his head down on a flat, smooth rock. She had laid her head on his chest.

And there, laying on the rock was another note.

**

Your touch is such a blessing,
You will remember this,
A tiny hole inside the pole
Where we shared our first kiss.

**

The ‘pole’ was one of the huge wooden beams that held up the football stands. It had been a rather boring match between North and South house teams, with North winning from the first. She’d had a terrible day, scraping a pair of barely passing grades on Maths assignments. She hadn’t been sleeping well, anxious about the coming examinations, about the war, about her parents, and about his safety. He must have seen her slip out of her seat and down behind the stands to have a good cry. She leaned forward against one of the beams and wept her heart out.

She wasn’t alone for long. He found her quickly, turned her around, and demanded she tell him what was wrong. Refused to let her go until she confessed. Then, with a strange, fond laugh, he had kissed her for the first or many times, up against that strong wooden beam.

There was a knothole, and it became a mailbox for them. If he seemed more tightly wound than usual, she would leave a little treat for him, something to make him smile. She didn’t like to write down her feelings, so she would leave him a lemon drop (how he hated them; how it made them both laugh) or a kiss on a piece of paper, or a riddle to take his mind off of the day’s aggravations.

And he, well… as it turned out, he was a writer. If Alice had thought about it when she was eleven, she might have known. He had always spoken with a crisp, understated eloquence. But who thinks about alliteration and rhythm when they are eleven?

So he wrote to her. Little notes to tell her he was thinking of her, little rhymes to try and cheer her up, or great tomes to pour his heart out to her. He left them there for her, in the little hole. Their little postbox.

And there it was. Another note.

**

Tonight we’ll find fulfillment,
The Lioness and the Snake.
Remember where I told you?
We were standing by the lake.

**

Owen Poet had a fairy godmother who was a seer. Of course, she wasn’t actually a fairy. Just one-eighth American Indian. And she wasn’t actually his godmother, either, just a great-aunt on his mother’s side. But family legend named her a seer all the same. At his Christening, she bent over his cradle and whispered a prophecy – that the Darkness would never be defeated until he brought about the union of the mortals and the lords.

He believed, and had believed since that first day in autumn in her sixth year, that she, the mortal-born witch was to play the lioness to his aristocratic snake. He told her so on one unseasonable warm day in February, standing beside by the lake, his large hand wrapped around her smaller one.

“And so we must be together,” he told her quietly. “The fate of the world depends upon it.”

She had laughed. “As if I needed an excuse.”

“Do you want me as I want you?” he asked, not daring to look down, but staring out across the lake.

“I want you in every way,” she whispered.

Then he kissed her.

She found the spot quite easily – he had marked it with a single starflower, glowing silver against the purple night. A parchment was wrapped around the stem.

**

Now pick this lovely flower.
And hold it up just so.
This flower is your wedding jewel,
This nightgown your trousseau.

Now think a little deeper,
I treasure every tear,
You cried and laid against me,
When I was filled with fear.

That night I made a promise
Which tonight I mean to keep.
From now until forever,
May you never need to weep.

Come now unto that garden,
Where I now stand in wait.
Hurry, love, come to me.
The hour is growing late.

Come find me in the moonlight, And tonight we shall be wed.

**

How she had cried that day. A weekend not so long ago, she had slipped into the forest to be alone, but found him already waiting for her. She had kissed him ardently, and laid him down in the cool green grass, telling him in plain English words what it was that she desired. She could feel him pressed against her through their thick school robes, and knew that he wanted her as well.

But his conscience would not allow it.

“How will I feel tomorrow, waking up and knowing that I have taken advantage of you?”

“Owen, think!” She kissed him and nuzzled into his neck. “Do I seem like a woman coerced?”

“No,” he answered hoarsely. “No, Alice.”

“Then please…” she buried her face in his chest.

“I can’t…” He closed his eyes. “If anyone found out that I had taken advantage of you… with our age difference, only a marriage would allow it. Even that would set tongues to wagging… we can’t…”

“I can’t wait much longer, Owen,” she said sadly. “And neither can you.”

He had known that she was right, and he promised that it would be soon. But it was weeks before she heard from him again.

And that had only been in the form of a little sparrow.

When she found the little circle of trees where he had made his promise, it was aglow with little fairy lights and wreaths of roses. Owen was there with his back to her, wearing his finest school robes, and Lord Acorn stood before him in his nightdress. The Lord was flanked by Herbert Jones and Sirena Poet, each in plain robes of their house colors.

Lord Acorn bowed slightly when he saw her. “Ah, Alice Jones at last. Have you come before these witnesses of your own free will, in order to accept the life-long pledge of love extended to you by Owen Poet?”

Owen turned around then and gave her a watery, question smile.

She smiled softly. “I have.”

“Then let us begin.”

 

::golem depart::

by

from earth he came
as strong as steel
but soft as sand
he learned to feel

taught to fight,
he fought to win.
then saw the right
and saw the sin

he saw the blood
that dyed the clay
the blameless girl
who died that day

with tears of mud
and moans of sod
he fell to earth
he flew to God

from earth he came,
no heart or soul,
but learned to feel
and paid the toll

broke bread with men
who broke his heart
to dust returned
Golem Depart

Time and Season (a vignette from the Fourth Empire universe)

by

“Your words are very pretty, sir, but what do they mean?”

Her simple prose cut through his poetic monologue like a knife through butter. He was taken aback. “What do you mean?” he asked quietly.

“That’s just what I said, sir. All that rubbish you’re saying about me. What does it mean?”

“It means just what it says, Alexandria. You’re as beautiful as -”

“Yes, yes, I heard you the first time. But why are you saying it? What is the purpose of all this rubbish?”

“I… well. I suppose it means I would like the hold your hand.”

She tossed her short brown waves of hair and pointedly did not move her hand out from under her sleeve. “I see,” she replied curtly. “Is that all?”

“No,” he answered quietly. “I would also like to go dancing with you after your performance this evening. Then I would like to walk you up to your room and steal a kiss from your sweet lips before-”

She cut him off again. “I see. Well, you should have said that in the first place, instead of going into all that blather about the stars.”

“Would have assented?” he asked hopefully.

“Absolutely not.”

“Will you now?” he asked, taking his one last chance.

“Don’t be a fool.” She stood up, grabbed her violin and her bow, and trotted away.

“…please come alone.” The noted was signed from ‘A Friend’, but Alexandria knew better. Mysterious notes came from men, even pleasant, friendly notes. Alexandria weighed every word in her mind. Bring her violin? Perhaps someone sought a private concert? That would be fun. But not if her tried to kiss her. Oh, no. Alexandria knew all about that.

“What is it, child? What’s bothering you?”

Alexandria looked up in surprise, “Hello, Madame Bonsoir. I wasn’t expecting you here this evening.”

The headmistress nodded, “I know.. but little Marie said that you were distressed, and that you had received a missive. May I read it?”

Alexandria’s brow furrowed. The lack of privacy here bothered her, but what could she do? She reluctantly handed the note over.

Madame Bonsoir read the note, then laughed. “Poor child. An admirer at your age? Well..”

Alexandria was young, beautiful, talented, refined, and naturally charming. Why shouldn’t she have an admirer. The headmistress cringed with jealousy. How long had it been since Lord J’kath had come to see her? His absences were longer and closer together than they had been when she was younger, and now his wife was expecting. His new wife. She shuddered.

“I wouldn’t go if I were you, child,” she said lightly. Men are dangerous, especially at your age. They are cruel, conniving, and underhanded. They seduce you and leave you lonely. Do you understand?

“No, mistress. What does that mean, seduce?”

Alexandria was seventeen, and the absolute picture of innocence. Madame Bonsoir wanted it that way. She liked her girls protected. Their music was sweeter, more special, more precious. Besides, the music of a virgin was laced with the olde magic.

“Never mind. Stay in your room, tonight Alexandria.”

“Yes, Madame.” She smiled.

The absolute picture of innocence.

She walked slowly along the beach. She was in no hurry to meet the strange man; she didn’t want to seem too eager. She found a rock outcropping with a surface smooth enough to sit on, then perched upon it and lifted her violin to chin. She began to play, a slow piece and melancholy. Her white dress billowed in the wind, her soft brown hair flying back from her face like a flag. The world around was green and fog and the crashing of waves. The moon hung low in the air, a few stars hanging around it, but most of the air was full of fog and cloud.

Alexandria took the man’s breath away, and as her haunting melody filled the air, he was enchanted. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she stood up, carried away by her own music, playing up at the sky like a wolf howling at the moon. The man drew nearer, then sat down on the wet sand by the rock. He looked up at her, then closed her eyes, too, and listened.

The sudden stop of the violin awoke him. He opened his eyes and looked straight into hers. She looked afraid.

“Who are you?”

“Who are you?” he replied softly.

“Alexandria. Didn’t you send for me?”

“Is it that easy, Alexandria? All I would have to do is send for you and you would come?”

“I-” she faltered, then shrugged. “I wanted to see who sent for me.”

“It wasn’t I.”

“Who are you?” she repeated.

He stood up and offered her his hand. “Jækob. You’re very good, you know. How long have you been studying?”

“Two years under Madame Bonsoir. My father taught me before.”

“And who is your father?”

“A bishop.”

“Lovely.”

Alexandria nodded.

“You also are lovely,” he said simply.

“Well,” said Alexandria.

“Well?” he asked.

“That was rather unexpected,” she answered.

“Was it? Don’t you think you’re lovely?”

“Not really. But that’s irrelevent. I’m not a man.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “I had noticed that. You’re graceful and very lovely.”

“I don’t like men,” she interrupted.

“Why not?”

“Madame Bonsoir taught me that men are conniving and seducers. I should stay away from them. I should stay away from you.” Alexandria rose to leave. She picked up a cloak that she had dropped aside and moved to pull it over her shoulders.

“Wait,” he said.

“For what?”

“Don’t go, I mean,” he answered.

“Why not? I told you, already-”

“I’m not a man, either, you see.”

“You’re not? Then what are you?”

“Just a boy.”

“What’s the difference.”

“I’m not conniving or seductive, and you have nothing to fear from me.”

Alexandria sighed and sat back down on the rock. It was raining now. “I shouldn’t have come, boy. I’m going to be in big trouble now. I don’t know how to go back without Madame seeing me. I never thought of it before.”

The rain was pouring down her face, and the world had shifted from green to light purple. It wasn’t so windy anymore, only rain, coming straight down. The enchantment was lifted. Jækob looked at Alexandria and saw suddenly not the face of a muse, like earlier, but the face of a friend in trouble.

Much more comfortable. Much more loveable.

He smiled.

“I’ll get you back in, Alexandria. I think I may know a few things about this place that you don’t.”

They climbed a trellis that led to Jækob’s room. Alexandria had never before seen the room of a visiting patron, and was delighted. The walls were decorated with paintings of the Allpan Mountains. She ran her fingers over the bumpy brush textures.

“They look so much like the mountains,” she exclaimed. “They’re beautiful.”

“You like art?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. I think. I’ve never looked at art, before, only music.”

He smiled, “Art is like music, but you can see is. It’s not so frightening, I think, but it’s just as easy to get lost in painting as picture as it is playing the violin to the sky.”

Alexandria smiled slightly. She looked up. “You paint, monsieur?”

“Call me Jækob, please.”

“Jækob.”

He smiled and gestured over to an easel by his bed. “I paint. Would you like to see?”

Alexandria shrugged, conscious of the fact that she was still in his bedroom, and feeling a bit trapped. “Yes, but…”

“Good! Come here.”

Alexandria followed him over to the easel.

On the easel wasa young woman in the middle of a field. Her coloring was much like Alexandria’s, brown, with milk-white skin, and she was wearing a red velvet dress. Her feet were bare, and one of them was kicking out of the grass as she spun, a violin in her hand. Alexandria grinned. “You like violins, Jækob?”

“I like to see girls playing violins. I don’t think I could play one myself.”

“I could teach you.”

“Could you? Would you?”

“Yes. I will.”

“Thank you, milady.” He bowed.

Alexandria laughed, then fell silent.

“I’d better go,” she said suddenly.

“Absolutely. Can you get back to the dorm from here?”

“Easily. Will I see you again, Jækob?”

“I will find you, Alexandria. I want to learn how to play the violin. And perhaps you will let me teach you to paint.”

She smiled and nodded. “Good.”

“Goodbye, Alex.”

And she was gone.

“Now what would keep Madame’s finest pupil out until midnight, that’s the biggest question,” announced Marie as Alexandria crept into the dorm room. There were three candles lit, by the three beds in a row of the three nosiest girls at the school. The one in the middle was Marie Heresford. Alexandria blushed to her ears.

“A man?” guessed Erika, one of Marie’s less-than-bright satellites.

Marie shrugged. “Maybe.”

Marie was beautiful. Even Madame Bonsoir had to admit that. Her red curls went about 20 centimeters past her shoulders. Her eyes flashed green when she was proud or happy, which was most of the time. She was reclining on her bed with a music theory book in her lap, obviously her excuse for being up so late.

“I was practicing by the shore,” Alexandria informed Marie coldly. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell Madame. If she finds out I got my violin wet, she’ll have me executed.”

Marie laughed, “Is that all?”

Alexandria shrugged stoically. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I suppose.” Marie tucked her theory book back into her nightstand and blew her candle out, motioning for the other girls to do the same. “You’re a real bore, you know that, Alexandria?”

“You’re just jealous, because I’m so devoted to my art,” Alexandria sang.

Marie laughed. “I have much more important things on my mind than art, Alexandria Stepperson.”

Alexandria was accustomed to the dark, and changed into her nightgown by the light of the moon that streamed in through the large windows that lined the walls. She peeled back the comforter on her warm, all white bed, and tucked herself in. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Men.” Marie’s whisper rang right by Alexandria’s ear. She sat straight up, surprised by the closeness of the girl.

“Marie, what are you doing over here?” Alexandra whispered shrilly. “I have to go to sleep.”

“I wanna talk.”

Alexandria sighed. “What’s on your mind, Marie?”

Marie grinned in the darkness and climbed uninvited onto Alexandria’s bed. “Jean-Luc.”

“The flautist?”

“Mmhmmm…”

“What about him?” Alexandria asked. Now that she was in bed, she could feel her energy dissipating, and she really wanted Marie to leave and go to sleep.

“He asked me to steal out with him this evening and… I did.”

“You did?” Alexandria was suddenly awake.

“Mmmhmmmm… we walked through the forest, we held hands, and he made me sing for him.” Alexandria stifled a laugh. Marie had an awful singing voice. “Then we sat on a big stone in the middle of the clearing…”

“Girls! What is the meaning of this?”

Marie jumped out of Alexandria’s bed and quickly climbed into her own as Madame Bonsoir entered the room. “Sorry, Madame!” she exclaimed.

“Sorry indeed! So this is all the noise I heard. I was worried that some of my girls might have been leaving the building.” She glared at them.

Alexandria’s eyes widened.

“Oh, no, Madame,” Marie said. “We’d never.”

“No. I thought not. As it turns out, it was just one of the boarding patrons. He said he didn’t see anyone.” She frowned slightly. “I must admit I was uncertain as to whether he was telling the truth. Boys like that have trouble lying…” she trailed off.

Alexandria flushed scarlet. It must have been Jækob, and he must have covered for her. She would remember to find a way to thank him.

“That’s a relief, Madame,” Alexandria put in.

Madame Bonsoir smiled. “I know you would never be consorting with the patrons, Alexandria. You know better, don’t you? You learn well.”

Alexandria felt her stomach churn with guilt. “Thank you, Madame.”

“Yes, Alexandria. I expect you to look after the little ones. If any of them leave, you’ll tell me won’t you, dear?” She did not wait for an answer. “Anyway, goodnight. No more chatter between you two, understood?”

“Yes, madame,” they murmured in unison.

“Goodnight, then.”

She closed the door behind her. Alexandria sighed softly in relief.

..sigh. It had been a beautiful night, but Alexandria was overloaded with guilt. She was scared, too. He said that he was a boy, not a man. She was holding onto that. So, technically, she hadn’t been out with a man. She had just been playing a song for a boy that happened to meet her along the coast. Jækob.. Jækob. A nice name. Nice eyes, too. Nice curls. Fantastic voice. Like a prince, or something..

Alexandria slowly drifted off to sleep.

Alexandria turned the note over and over in her hand. She had read it five times already; she had it memorized. But she still hadn’t made a decision. Jækob wanted to see her again. He wanted to learn the violin. He wanted to teach her about paint. That was the part that appealed to her most – learning about the music that you could see. It was said that artists and magicians used the same implements. Alexandria wanted to ask Jækob about that.

But should she go? She doubted it. It was the sabbat today, she could do whatever she wanted, and the sinkhole was within the grounds. There was nothing irregular about a visit there. Only that she knew he would be there.

She decided a to take a walk.

The “sinkhole” was the most beautiful spot on all the grounds. It was a circular clearing, about twenty feet in diameter, in the middle of the woods, sunk about six feet into the ground. It was carpeted with soft green grass. A little river fell into the sinkhole, creating a small pool near the edge. The river continued about ten feet into the hole, then flowed right into the ground. There were several mossy boulders and logs that had fallen into the hole. The younger girls often sat there, watching the little waterfall and composing childish poetry.

Alexandria climbed down on one of the fallen logs which served as a downward bridge into the sinkhole. There he was, crouched on the largest of the boulders with a sketchbook in his hands. From her perch, Alexandria could see that his eyes were closed. She leapt lightly down onto the ground, and crept up behind him. She climbed onto the boulder and lightly tapped his shoulder.

He jumped. “Alex! You scared me!”

Alexandria grinned.

“You didn’t bring your violin,” he said. “I’m disappointed.”

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “It’s too wet here. I shouldn’t have been playing by the ocean either. It could ruin my violin. If Madame found out, I’d have dinner duty for a month.”

“Aw, I’m just teasing you. This is a much better place for painting anyway. And if we need music, we’ll sing.”

“You sing?” asked Alexandria.

“Why of course. Doesn’t everyone?”

“I didn’t know boys did.”

“Some boys have better voices that girls. I, for example, can sing very well.”

Alexandria’s eyes flashed. “Can’t beat lessons from Madame Bonsoir, boy or not.”

“Let’s try it. Do you know any duets?”

“Scores,” she replied airily. “You pick one.”

“”Time and Season?'” he asked hopefully.

Alexandria wrinkled her nose. “What’s that?” she asked.

“Hmm, a duet. Obviously. How about ‘Live My Life’?”

“Ah, yes. A beauty. I know that one,” Alexandria replied confidently.

They were well matched in tone and fluency. Alexandria’s strong point was range, his was breath control, but they let it rest at that.

How I Use Lavender to Care for my Children

by

I love lavender because it is a gentle herb, and because I have had a baby or toddler in the house for nearly ten years. I love using herbs but I don’t always feel good about using them with babies. For example, I like to use strong White Camphor oil when I make my vapor rub, but it is considered to be much too strong to use with little ones. So that’s my first use of lavender.

1) Vapor Rub – my regular recipe for vapor rub calls for a mixture of eucalyptus oil, camphor oil, and lavender. When I make the rub for my dear hubby, I make it heavy on the camphor. But when I make it for the little children I omit the camphor and double the lavender. Next time I am going to add rosemary, too. Don’t believe it works? Guess what Vick’s uses in their baby vapor rub? Go ahead and Google it – I’ll wait!

2) Go to sleep baths – have a fussy little one that doesn’t like to sleep? Me, too. I add a few drops of lavender to a very warm baths to make a soothing, restful atmosphere that help calm baby down. It really only takes a few drops. Make sure you keep a very close eye on baby because they will fall asleep in the tub – I have had this happen. Guess what herb Johnson and Johnson advertises as being enriched in their popular bedtime lotion?

3) Baby Powder – I use ground lavender flowers as a soothing agent to help fight diaper rash in my homemade baby powder. The base I use is a combination of  arrowroot powder and kaolin clay. I sometimes add finely ground ground calendula flowers, too, for strong diaper rash, because calendula is reputed to be antibiotic and would help prevent infections. You can see my recipe for making baby powder here.

4) Keeping clothes fresh – A sachet of lavender is a wonderful way to keep baby’s clothes smelling sweet and fresh. Try lavender as a safer, gentler alternative to moth balls (which smell nasty and are potent).

5) Safe Cleaning – I add about 20 drops of lavender oil to a small bottle of vinegar to make an excellent, safe cleaning solution for counters, high chairs, sinks, and the like. The smell of the vinegar will fade but the lavender will linger and you won’t feel bad spraying this around the little ones.

6) Headache Care – A little lavender on the temples is a gentle and effective headache relief solution. I use this myself – sometimes even just a little whiff out of the bottle makes me feel better right away. Your children will appreciate the gentle care of the combination of touch and aromatherapy.

7) Gentle insect repellent – lavender is one of the very few essential oils that is considered safe enough to dab right on skin, but when I use it with my child I still like to use a carrier oil. You can add the lavender oil to plain old vegetable oil, a carrier oil that you love, or you can buy witch hazel (which is a wonderfully mild antiseptic to have on hand) from the first aid section of a local store.

One more I almost forgot is  Wound healing – Lavender is one of the main ingredients in my healing salve, which is one of my favorite recipes and for some reason I have not posted it yet. I will be posting the recipe soon.

If you don’t have lavender on hand or a local source, try Mountain Rose Herbs! This is where I usually buy mine.

Lavender Essential Oil – a one ounce bottle will last you a LONG time, but buy a small bottle if you just want to try it

Lavender Flowers – buy them whole to use in sachets or buy them powered to use in baby powder. I buy them whole so that I can use them for both, and powder them myself. I usually only buy a 4 oz bag but I don’t make very many sachets. If you have a lot of clothes to sweeten, you might buy more.

Witch Hazel – only $5 a 16 ounce bottle at the time of this writing – great deal for a simple, versatile carrier. You may be able to find a better deal locally.

Please remember – I am not giving medical advice or telling you to do anything to your family. I am sharing recipes and ideas that work with my family. Always test essential oils in very small amounts before using them with your family, as there may be individual sensitivities or allergies.