On botanical water...
as 'tis the season
I know it was the tale of the Field of Flowers I promised you this week…and said it and the Botanical Waters are inseparable. But for the sake of a complete story, I’ve decided they will have to come to you in two parts!
When I suggested relaying the tale of the Field of Flowers, it was because my head was immersed right there, in the Field - the pruning, feeding, mulching - the annual nurture of it; and I ought to have written that instalment there and then, for that moment has been superseded by the very real urgency to act - to capture the pure botanical essence of the season whilst it’s here; while I can. It’s a ‘drop everything’ moment, and it’s arrived early (though that said, it’s in sync with last year, but not the one before, or the one before that). So my head now is in the Waters. But like the season, I’m already ahead of myself!
Let’s go back to the very beginning…
Once upon a time, there was a little girl who delighted (when visiting her maternal grandparents) in playing dress-ups, particularly in the pretty frocks her Mum had once sewn - of crisp cottons swept with rosebud prints on swirling skirts; of shot taffeta and stiff organza; of petticoats trimmed with broderie anglaise and ribbons; and a significant collection of hats stored in boxes piled high in the corner of her Mum’s once bedroom. Amongst the bits and bobs contained in the drawers of her Mum’s dressing table (still bedecked then in a frilled floral print as it must have been all her young life) was a tiny bottle. Its label even then, was mottled, and yet the name of its contents, above an illustrated motif were clear: Lavendel Orangen. Always, but always, that little girl would twist off the tiny, tarnished lid that revealed a speck of a hole in the top of that flat-sided bottle, to deeply inhale the contents: amber with age, honeyed and dense with aroma. So keen was that little girl to preserve the contents, by only allowing herself the teeniest tiniest drop to emerge if she pressed the top of that bottle to her wrist, that the level inside today is the same as it was then!
Fast forward through life and the myriad olfactory experiences collected along the way. We all collect them - they trigger memories…of moments in time - of adventure, of romance, of celebration, of loss. Just this week, with the wisteria in full bloom, although I can’t recall the exact date (I know I should), about 26 years ago my paternal grandmother left this earth. The date though, matters not…whilst the memory does. When I heard the news of her passing, it was the heady, intense perfume of wisteria that filled my nostrils (I can’t escape it here at this time of year) which is inclined to make me feel slightly giddy. I adore it, and love it nonetheless because I associate it with my grandmother’s passing. Memory triggers…are such a valuable layer in our lives.
It was in the years that followed that time that I began to experiment with capturing the essence of the garden in a bottle. Although back then it was no more than child’s play - quite literally - I was always trying to come up with fun things to do with the girls during school holidays and they were quite small when I hatched this plan. I’m sure you’ve tried it - a saucepan, a steamer, a glass bowl, handfuls of a chosen botanical and an inverted saucepan lid. Once…Bonnie and I ended up with a bottle of bright pink rosewater! She probably still has it stashed away somewhere - we were agog!
But somewhere along the line, the desire to bottle the garden took hold in a more emphatic sense. I’d long made the ornamental garden…and had, over time, gradually become a gardener. I’d become steeped in the kitchen gardening journey which whilst complimentary to the ornamental gardening one, is more intense, causing one literally to be guided day by day, to be involved, to participate, and live in unison with the season. And as my real connection developed, interests deepened and knowledge grew - my desire to actually capture the moment in a bottle (rather than it being a throwaway line), became compelling.
There were leads I followed - twice at our open gardens in a row, fellow-essence hunters and friends Georgina Reid (The Planthunter) and Jardine Hansen (beautiful florist) set up a copper Still that Georgina’s Dad had made. Neither of them were very much beyond me in our shared search for how we might actually go about learning this ancient practice. I followed a few more threads that led to hope, but each of them fizzed out.
Then at last I saw possibility on the horizon! With a big Open Garden planned to celebrate 30 years, how determined I was to be able to share the garden in a bottle with those who came! Alas, my learning was too late for that date, but it was the prompt I needed to catapult me into real action. A couple of years before, thanks to Clemmie who had a project in Sussex in the UK at the time, I met Amanda Saurin whose AS Apothecary was then based in the little town of Lewes. I had a date with a garden (Great Dixter!) but had just enough time up my sleeve to make an unannounced detour via Amanda’s dear little shop (I mean…what on earth was I going to ask or say? I truly had no idea where to really begin…I think my plan was visit first, write later!). I got chatting to Amanda’s assistant and then, whilst I was immersed in the shelves of botanical mists and balms and potions of all kinds, Amanda arrived, straight off a flight from some adventurous, plant-essence hunting mission. What serendipity!
It was another year before I could participate in the workshop Amanda suggested I attend; which was the ultimate catalyst to where I am today. A workshop in Wild Perfumery. I mean…who could resist? Because here was the nub of the matter…I was seeking how to capture the garden - my garden - not a heap of synthetics for the sake of a product or a particular dreamt up combination (even though I do have this huge desire to combine frangipani and gardenia with Mme Isaac Perreire but I know I cannot bring that about by nature!). I wanted to capture my petals. My aromatic foliage. My blossom. But how? It was the first part of the day that was relevant…as perfume itself is really not on my agenda (involving alcohol, that’s where I begin to lose the plot - I don’t want any other substance messing with my petals!).
On the day when Larry collected me from Amanda’s then Barn (we were going somewhere but where is simply a blur) all I could recount was the fact that this had been the most fun day of my entire life! Joy…it had been filled with pure joy!
I was excited beyond measure. Amanda was generous with her time and encouragement…she told me that what I wanted to do could be done…I’d just need to buy an Alembic… and learn. She also told me the best person to talk to in the Southern Hemisphere was Jill Mulvaney in New Zealand. My journey had just begun!
But before I go on…because I really, really do want to credit Amanda here - without her inspiration there would be no Field of Flowers Workshops. They are entirely inspired by her. They contain the joy, the beauty, the bounty, the colour, the scent…they are an experience like no other (if you happen to love flowers) and how I love to share those days. Where Amanda though, went on to complete that particular day with making perfume (in fact much of her practice is based on distillation!) instead I run a distillation. One day, it’s my hope that Amanda will come here to run a workshop because her knowledge runs deep; but in the intervening years she has moved her entire operation to the Isle of Harris, where she does amazing things. She is a woman of immense wisdom and insight. I’ve no intention of ever becoming Amanda: she has a true understanding of botanicals and their healing properties. With a science background, she holds the substance. I make experiential days and share the tip of that iceberg in all its botanical glory. Whilst my Botanical Waters are as pure as any you’re likely to find on the planet; it’s from Amanda that one can truly learn.
Enter Hildegard! Well…maybe it’s a bit early to explain the Hildegard connection! But that is her name: naming your Still…is a thing!
Following Amanda’s advice, I contacted Jill who lives on Waiheke Island in New Zealand. Jill…is a walking encyclopaedia - on Stills and botanicals - she’s another driving force. There was correspondence. There were zoom calls. We decided on the likely best capacity of Still for my purpose; and some weeks later, I retrieved two boxes from the post office. To say I had no idea where to begin, was to put it mildly. Although I’d read Ann Harman’s bible ‘Harvest to Hydrosol’ online (it had long been out of print and so I’d made copious notes, but that’s not the same as holding a book in your hands - an updated version is now back in print) much of it was, to be honest, ‘til put into practice, gobbledegook.
So a zoom call was locked in and I made Larry sit in as I just knew there would be too much for my poor brain to comprehend in one session. Well…it was hysterical! We propped Jill on the end of the kitchen bench, unpacked all the parts and with Jill’s guidance, eventually pieced them all together: it’s at this stage you realise a domestic bucket isn’t likely to do the job required, the kitchen bench is far too wide to accommodate the tubes that connect the pump to the Still; that the condenser pot must by some means be raised to fit to the outlet from the dome head…and on and on it went (all the time I was making lists and notes that were becoming pages long!). It’s so funny looking back on it…because now, the entire process is second nature; but back then, it was anything but.
With a list of instructions from Jill as to what to do the next day, between us Larry and I managed to cause a flood and to almost set the kitchen on fire - all within a space of minutes! And I hadn’t yet even picked a petal to distil! I’m enormously grateful as ever to Larry for his patience and encouragement - for that baptism of the Still he was much needed. But since grappling with that initial hurdle, he has been banished!
Fortunately Jill is patient, as I had a lot of questions for her to answer. (Since that time, I’ve run a series of Distillation Workshops here with Jill and hope there will be more ahead - Jill is a fabulous teacher).
But in anyone’s language, there is only one way to learn the art of distillation…and that is to distil…over and over and over and over again.
Which is exactly what I did. I discovered one of the metal tables I use for serving in the Dairy was the ideal size for the purpose, and collected the myriad other bits and pieces that would turn the distillation process into a joy, rather than the nightmare with which we began!
From there, each experimental distillation came to be about the botanicals themselves (as the process itself became familiar) and plenty of experimentation there was: from rosemary and thyme, to lavender and scented pelargonium, blossoms and honeysuckle, to roses and a plethora of random flowers and aromatic foliage. Of course not all botanical material can be distilled…there are other means of coaxing olfactory delight from those stubborn to yield, but aside from one method I learned from Jill last year (with which I became hugely intrigued and intend to try adding more this year to the tiny amount of rose attar I obtained last!) I’m no expert so will leave that to those who are.
There are two means of distillation - hydro, meaning the plant materials are placed in water inside the belly, or pot of the Still; or steam, when they are placed in the column (so not touching the water). Either way, it’s steam that carries the molecules from the botanical material on their journey through the still…collecting the pure essence that rises as vapour, which has nowhere to go but up, ‘til it hits the top of the ‘hat’ and must then travel via the ‘swan neck’ though the condenser coil, where a cool and constant flow of water causes the vapour inside the coil to become liquid once again. It’s not dissimilar to a weather pattern - of moisture drawn from the earth into the atmosphere, which in turn spills as rain.
Oh but what a simplification of the process that sounds! For it lacks the emotive, energetic, colourful and olfactory components, without which there would be no connection…it doesn’t account for the elements that are pure joy and for which I was unprepared…
Perhaps now is as good a time as any to explain why I named her Hildegard! It seems to me that life’s twists and turns, even on the most simplistic level on a daily basis, generally occur with purpose, even if we don’t recognise them to be so at the time.
The year we set off on that short trip which would include my much anticipated workshop with Amanda in the UK, we just happened to fly out on a Sunday. On Sundays, we are inclined to listen to ABC Radio Classic FM and so it was that on our drive to the airport, I was captivated by a piece of music that transpired to have been composed by Hildegard of Bingen. Up ‘til that moment, Hildegard had seemingly passed me by, but I made a note to investigate her further. Born in Germany in the very late C11th, she became a Benedictine abbess of some extraordinary repute - and I’ll leave you to research her fascinating life as you wish (she was a force to be reckoned with that’s for sure and her abilities seemed to know no bounds!). But on the topic of plants, about which she knew a great deal, Hildegard coined a word that resonated deeply with me. That word is viriditas…translating as a literal ‘green-ness’ which I liken to that moment when a plant is at its peak moment in its season - when it almost radiates with an aura. I’d often commented on it, but I didn’t have a word for it, ‘til I began to read about Hildegard. Then as is the case with these things, she began to pop up on my horizon with great regularity (you know - you see one yellow car then you see ten in a row!). The icing was heaped onto Hildegard’s cake when I discovered reference to her in Ann Harman’s ‘Harvest to Hydrosol’ in the very first few pages! My heart skipped a beat - there was no doubt the name of my Still would be Hildegard!
Since then, there have been so many distillations! So many botanicals collected, so many beakers of pure, aromatic botanical water poured into sterilised jars and stored in the cellar.
The ones with which I’m confident, I’m happy to sell. They are Rose Geranium, Orange Blossom and Lavender. I make no claims of therapeutic benefit as that is simply not my area of expertise. I distill purely as a way of sharing the garden and my love of it, with those who would like a little of it to take away. The experimental ones, I play with myself!
Waters of distillation, hydrosols, facial mists (or as I like to call them, botanical waters) are popular with those who know of them. Generally used as a fine mist for the face - they are refreshing to the skin but more than that…the true essence that’s delivered by means of a little spritz can be completely uplifting, transportive.
If you’d like to read more about them…do go in search of Ann Harman, who is a world leading authority. And you will discover a lot about them too, if you follow Amanda Saurin, who shares a generous amount of information on her blog via her website, as well as on instagram.
Over the years, people have often told me they wished I could bottle my energy. Though I hadn’t thought of it before learning to distill, I’ve come to recognise this is as close as I’m ever likely to be able to get to doing so!
Many commercially available ‘hydrosols’ are the byproduct of the essential oil industry…and by that I mean huge industry - with vast vats, mechanisation and of course industrial agricultural practice involved. Those who practice micro-batch distillation are people who are deeply connected to the botanicals with which they work. Whilst some may still buy those botanicals in (already I see question marks because we all know the flower industry is one of the worst for chemical application), there are others like me who can see little point…because its not about producing quantity of product, but literally bottling every incremental part of the journey of that botanical…from the soil in which its grown, to the sun and rain and nurture that have brought that botanical to its moment of viriditas - capturing not just the perfume, but the energy of place…and that of the distiller.
For me, the Botanical Waters are simply a way to share the garden here, with others wherever they may be. There’s no doubt they trigger memories all around. Every drop is precious.
Whilst I had plants here that could support my initial experimentation, I could see they wouldn’t sustain my idea beyond having a bottle here and there for my own use. Nor would those plants sustain the kind of workshop I had in mind…inspired by Amanda’s Wild Perfumery. I had a hunch I could share the most exquisite days with people…if I just had a Field of Flowers…
I’ve written about both the Botanical Water and the Field of Flowers on the website…perhaps more succinctly, given I had to condense the story I was trying to get across! But here you have more backstory than I could accommodate there…and if you follow the links, you can access both!
Next week, I will aim to fill you in on the Field of Flowers, because now it’s coming back to life after the winter, I’ll be spending more time down there and if you’re following along on this platform on a regular basis, the whole will make so much more sense as I begin to reference it more and more.
As I said at the top, ‘tis the time for distillation! In last week’s post I told you how I’d prepared Hildegard (just in the nick of time as it turns out!) with her big citric acid wash. This week, I’ve kicked off the season with not one but two Orange Blossom distillations!
As they’ve been the highlight of my week, I might save their description for this week’s post!
If you have any questions about the Botanical Waters, do by all means send me a message! Of course you can order the waters via the website. And there will be upcoming Field of Flowers Workshops to too - the season has only just begun.
That little girl I told you about at the beginning? She would be beside herself with glee!
Sending garden-scented wishes to all,
Mickey x
What a treasure Sally...and all you need to bring all those memories to the fore. Mx
You have the energy too dear India...it comes from having our hands in the earth and all that stems from it. I'm still (haha!) hoping we might (by some miracle) have the good luck to capture the essence of your damask rose at our workshop in November...