On the left of the left side page is a very old glass bottle that still has its original lavender sachet inside and that still smells as good as it ever did. My mom bought this bottle of sachet from me and for me during my single summer as an Avon lady, the leached horizon of a summer between high school and college. Desperate for money, I took over our neighbor's Avon route, but I proved to be a pitiful saleswoman. Maybe it was the fact that I rode my bike to peddle my wares. Maybe it was the fact that I looked about twelve and my idea of makeup was still Clearasil. But whatever it was, my mom took pity on me one day when I had come home orderless yet again, and she ordered a bottle of lavender sachet. At the end of the summer she gave it to me, and I've kept it all these years.
To the right of the sachet bottle is a minute little vial that I found in our house several years ago after a college student house-sitter had lived in it all summer. It looks like the kind of bottle essential oils come in from the Chinese acupuncture clinic, and its label reads "valarianus officianalis." There's not much valarian left in it, just a trace at the bottom; but the smell is ancient and wonderful, sort of raisin-like.
On the right is a gift from another student house-sitter. This student made herbal salve out of our lavender crop while we were gone and gave us several jars of it. It's great stuff, works on all kinds of things, still smells like summer in our herb garden.
The little tin on the top left is from Oscar Wilde Fruities, a mint-like candy that Jacob and I used to buy and keep in the car when he was a really little guy. We bought Fruities for several years, enjoying not only the candies but the clever box that opens when you press on the top and closes when you squeeze the sides. But then suddenly Fruities were unavailable. They were made by the Unemployed Philosophers' Guild, and even a search of their web site failed to turn up any information about them. I still have this one tin left, and I keep beads in it. It still has a faint Fruities smell, a cross between baby aspirin and Lik-M-Aid.
To the right of the Fruities tin is a dark blue glass bottle of cedarwood oil. I've had it since a 1998 trip out to Portland, Oregon.
On the right, a ceramic box made by my son Erik when he was 5 or 6 and used by us for many years to store cinnamon sugar, of which it still smells.
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