Y is for Yardley(English Lavender)

*photo courtesy of Yardley



<sup>Yardley brings back memories of my youth; My Grammie Ruth, used their products.  I remember the first time I had a whiff of her lavender soap, it was a wake up call for the senses.  I didn't like it at first, too strong, but I grew to love the scent of lavender and how it permeates the brain.   I use to love to visit my Grammie's place; she had a small apartment in town.  She was within walking distance to everything.   She loved the color purple, her bedroom was mixed shades of lavender, silver gray with touches of green.  Just like the herb.   I use to love her vanity, she had bottles of toliet water, and English lavender.  Her bedroom smelled of the calm scent.  I don't think she wore the fragrance, I think she used it to freshen linens and bedding.  She always kept pressed flowers around, pansies mainly.  They were under the glass over her vanity stand.  Her linen closet had opened bars of Yardley soap, everything had a freshness about it.  She didn't have a lot of money, but she sure knew how to make the most of what she had.  Every birthday and Mother's Day, I knew what we would be buying her, some more lavender perfume or toliet water.       I remember one summer, I was home visiting and I wanted a few sprigs of lavender/   I wanted to mail her some sprigs in my letter.  She had remarried and moved away.  I was probably eleven, older enough to know better.   I snuck into a neighbor's yard at dark and picked 5 spikes.  I knew it was wrong, but I figured as long as I didn't pull up the root and snapped a few sprigs at the top, I wasn't doing any harm.  This lady had huge amounts of it, she wouldn't miss 5 sprigs.    I felt guilty and made up for it.  She never knew, but I did...so I made her some muffins and brought her a bouquet of flowers from my Mom's garden.   I told my Mom what I had done.       


I now grow my own lavender and don't borrow sprigs, spikes or stems from the neighbors.   Smelling it's heady scent, reminds me of my grandmother, a quiet woman, with an infectious laugh,  who made her nest smell like France.</sup>

This photo is in Provence...
photo courtesy of this site~