Round Robin: Wand Weaving

Article Tools

Print

E-mail

Comments

RSS

NEWBERG, Oregon—I know that there’s work to be done in the lavender patch, so I rub a fragrant leaf of Agastache cana, which is called mosquito plant, on my forearms and neck to repel those determined insects. Whe­ther or not it works on the mosquitoes, this action at least gives me peace of mind and lets me get on to the job at hand—harvesting the lavender before it’s over the hill.

I try to gather only enough lavender spikes to make up three or four lavender wands—an evening’s work. In lavender-wand making, freshness is everything. I’m still not sure why I make them, unless it’s a subliminal urge to have a vocational skill when I retire to the old folks’ home. (Do herb gardeners ever retire?)

I prefer to use lavandins, mainly Lavandula x intermedia ‘Grosso’ and ‘Provence’, but ‘Hidcote Giant’, ‘Seal’, ‘Abrialii’, and ‘Super’ also work well, and each gives its own characteristics to the wand’s shape or fragrance. Grosso gives me a better-shaped wand with a pleasing but slightly camphorlike fragrance. The flowers of Pro­vence tend to shatter more than the others while being manipulated, but they provide the sweeter and more traditional fragrance that people expect in a lavender wand.

As I grow older, I find that I can handle the intense lavender fragrance for only so long. After a while, my nose shuts down and disregards the sweet component, picking up only the bitter, camphorous scent. But because harvest time usually lasts only two weeks, I have to work quickly, weaving as many wands in that time as I can. From one year to the next, though, I somehow forget the arthritic pains that always plague my hands afterward and which no doubt will be a greater liability when I finally get to that old folks home.

RSS | Comments | E-mail | Print