Jenifer’s Shelter Island Journal: The joys of lavender

I take a deep breath just writing the word “lavender,” which is not only one of the most beautiful words in the English language but, in these hair-raising times when we can’t seem to catch a breath, let alone take one, we should take just a moment to say it to ourselves. 

Now take a deep breath and say it again.  See?  Therefore, I think I owe it to my beleaguered readers, not to mention myself, to indulge not so much in a distraction — we can’t afford to get too distracted in these perilous times — but in entering, shall we say, a lavender “refuge” for just a little while.

Let me first dispatch with, in a lilting, lavender sort of way, a brief global history of lavender, compliments, in great part to cachecreek.com out of California: “Lavender has been used for centuries in many different cultures. First it was collected from the wild in the Mediterranean region where it grew and later it was cultivated. Although there are 30 different species of lavender, and today more than 300 cultivars, Lavendula angustifolia (English lavender) was the most prominent kind. To a lesser extent Lavandula stoechas (Spanish lavender) was sometimes used. Today Lavandula x intermedia, a natural hybrid discovered in France in the 20th century, is grown extensively as well. The Romans called it “lavender,” which may have come from the Latin verb lavare which means ‘to wash’ or from the word livendulo which means “livid or bluish.” The Greeks referred to it as Nardus after the city of Naardus in Syria. People in India called it spikenard, which referred to the shape of its flowers. It is also mentioned in the Bible.

“Lavender was used in ancient Egypt for embalming and cosmetics. The Greeks learned much from the Egyptians regarding perfumes and the use of aromatics. Unlike the ancient Egyptians who anointed their heads, the Greek philosopher Diogenes preferred to anoint his feet instead, saying, ‘When you anoint your head with perfume, it flies away in the air and birds only get the benefit of it.’ Ancient Romans recognized lavender for its healing and antiseptic qualities, for its usefulness in deterring insects, and used it in washing.

“Lavender was little used in the Dark Ages except by monks and nuns. Monasteries preserved the knowledge of herbal lore in their physics gardens. Its overuse contributed to its loss of popularity in the early 20th century when it became associated with old ladies.”

Today, lavender is also used to induce sleep, ease stress, relieve depression, make tea, a “be well” app as applied to the forehead to relieve congestion in sinuses, headaches, hangovers, tiredness, tension, exhaustion, not to mention, that it’s a versatile landscape plant adding structure, color, and fragrance to beds, borders, and containers, I’m told. I suppose it also cleans the kitchen sink. Frankly, listing lavender’s endless uses, I’m more exhausted than relaxed. So …

I will spare you most of the next leg of your lavender journey, “My Personal Theories on Lavender,” except to say that it seems to me that for some of us, as a color, lavender is, like its pomp-and-circumstance parent, Purple, a difficult color to work with and to wear. It’s either floating in fantasy suitable for 4-year-olds or finding its way to funeral floral arrangements.

And it still suffers from that elderly, Victorian era after-taste. And while all three secondary colors are “hybrids,” green and orange, in all their permutations, don’t present the same kind of tension that lavender seems to, rooted as it is in the two primary colors, red and blue, which carry cultural burdens of gender (and now political!) associations the others don’t share.

In fact, lavender and the Family Purple, resonate on a whole new level of cultural significance! Uh … perhaps we should move on now to, “My Personal Relationship with Lavender:”

I once painted my daughter’s room lavender, but that was under duress. I didn’t deliberately paint a room lavender until after a period of emotional devastation years ago when, having painted every other room in my home a different color, I kind of by default painted the upstairs hall bathroom … yes, lavender.

It looked pretty, of course, but I was so busy with bubbles and blubbering that I didn’t pay it much attention at first. Over time, as the blubbering subsided, I realized that being surrounded by lovely lavender was very soothing. I wasn’t yet an old woman, but I had somehow grown into the color. It fit me.

No surprise then that when I was first contemplating adding this annex to my old farmhouse, I didn’t know much, but I knew I wanted a lavender bedroom. And I got one. Lovely, clear lavender floating on cloud-white paneling, mature yet playful, soothing and just a little mysterious. A grown-up’s room … ahhhh … deep breath … Say, “Lavender.”