Pharmacy shelves abound with ‘remedies’ for coughs and colds, but I can promise you nothing will come close to being as brilliant as your own home-made elixir.
I’ve made up a batch of Autumnal cold syrup so my daughter can take some to Bangor University when she leaves (in two days). There are rumours of Freshers Flu which are leaving all the new students rather terrified.
What you’ll need: Organic lemons (you’re leaving the skins on, so make sure they’re organic) Fresh ginger root (one decent chunk, about five inches long) 30 ml 100% eucalyptus oil (do NOT use synthetic oils) Raw honey (depends on how much you’re making) Old glass jars
Place the glass jars and lids into a large pot and fill with water and bring to the boil. While they’re sterilising, get to work make your mixture.
Slice the lemons. (I used three bags of lemons, but one bag is fine)
Slice the ginger root.
Sprinkle liberally with lots of eucalyptus oil.
Gentle warm the honey if it’s ‘set’ honey. Don’t boil it. You just want it soft enough to pour into your jars.
When the jars are done, and have cooled a little, place the lemons and ginger root in each one until filled to the top. Sprinkle in more eucalyptus oil. Pour honey in until covered. Screw lid on tightly. I tip my jars upside down, and upright, and down again a few times over the course of the next day.
To use: simply take a spoon of honey (including lemon and ginger) and pop it into a mug with boiling water. Sip as often as needed throughout the day.
This can be used as a preventative, too. This mixture will last for months in the fridge.
So, all you Freshers starting university life, get drinking this remedy. Stay strong, study hard, have fun ~ and most importantly, phone your mother!
*You can also find a recipe for Thyme Honey (also effective for coughs and colds) in issue 4 of Starflower Living (publishing Sept 24). http://www.starflowerpress.com/living/index.shtml
These Autumnal days are utterly glorious. Despite the chilly and foggy start, there is such warmth in the sunshine.
I walk on the grass, my feet damp from dew, with grass clippings that cling to my toes and heels, and I wheel yet another barrow of wood from the bottom of the garden to the porch.
The porch is like another room, and from here I’m just metres from an edible feast: elderberries, strawberries, gooseberries, raspberries and blueberries.
The swallows have left their carefully created nests behind in the wooden beams; their families now flying far away.
The last blossoms on the buddleia entice a few butterflies.
This outdoor room is a sun trap, and I take a moment from moving barrows of wood to sit and sip the organic coffee my lover has just made. My cup came all the way from a small and vibrant town in Alaska. My friend Starr gave it to me ~ and I ‘must’ have it whenever I enjoy a hot drink.
Here on the porch I write a letter to my mum, and later on pot up plants for my daughter to take to university. She leaves in three days. Plants are important, I tell her, for beauty, to detox the air, and because it’s important to have something to nurture and care for.
Her plants have names: Chilli, Rose, Lily, Anastasia, Alistair…
She tells me she doesn’t have room for all these plants. “On your window sill,” I say. My heart says: three days to go.
I hear a tractor in the distance. The farmer is tending his sheep. But mostly, I hear birdsong.
My feet are dirty, my hair is messy, but I’m content.
My fingernails, which I started growing two months ago when the dentist said my chewing habit was ruining my teeth, become chipped from moving wood. I could have used gardening gloves, but I like to feel the wood. Loose bark falls to the side and I save it to put around my blueberry bushes. Nothing goes to waste. I find the colour of blueberry-bush leaves so stunning at this time of year.
I love the colour of the wood, a mix of amber and honey. The bark reminds me of the lovely wooden blocks my girls had growing up. They smelt fantastic, and had bark on them. I choke back a tear. Three days to go.
University rules mean that students aren’t allowed candles or incense in their halls. They have been such a sensory part of our family’s life. I suggest to my daughter that I get her one of those electric-run aromatherapy oil burners. We both cringe at the thought. No.
I give her essential oils with the instruction of putting them onto fabric by a sunny windowsill or on the radiator.
Birds are flying south beneath the feathery clouds and fragile-blue sky. My baby chick is about to fly south. Three days to go.
I wish I didn’t find goodbyes and letting go so damn hard. I grew up with a father who worked overseas for months at a time. Airports and goodbyes were a strong feature of my childhood. His death (that final goodbye), two years ago in a car accident, still lurks near the surface…no doubt amplifying any subsequent goodbyes. Three days to go!
The holly berries grow redder by the day. A sign of life. Life! Decay and death is all around in this vibrant Autumn season, and yet there is still life.
From the porch I see the washing on the line. In three days, I’ll no longer be washing her clothes. We’ve had our last breakfast together on the porch, and tomorrow will be our last shared gym session. There have been many ‘lasts’ in preparation for all the firsts which await her. I feel such a huge door opening up before her ~ a whole world of possibilities. It’s so exciting!
The boy cat rubs against my feet. I’m grateful for his company, but it’s only seconds until he tries to disembowel me. My thoughts turn to the girl cat. She’s now in her twelfth year of life, and showing signs of arthritic hips. I’ve been so cross at her lately for using my home as her personal litter tray. Anger turns to compassion. Her days are numbered.
Eliza’s been studying quality of life v. sanctity of life in her Philosophy and Ethics classes. Ironic that it’s playing out right in our home. We share tears over breakfast at the choices ahead. There are some decisions in life that you don’t want to make. She asks if we can get another kitten to keep the boy cat company. My heart aches. And go through this all over again?
That’s the thing about love, isn’t it? Nothing lasts forever on the physical plane. Things come and go. People come and go. Pets come and go.
Eleven years of sharing life with the girl cat ~ and the end shows its face. She’s part of the family. And this family is changing shaped and dynamics. Three days to go!
I sit back, sip my coffee and breathe. It hits me. Another last: we have dessert on Saturday night, and there are no more Saturdays left before my daughter leaves for uni.
My mind races. Perhaps I can bake an apple and elderberry crumble?
Autumn follows me inside. I stack wood by the downstairs stove.
The kitchen sings to me of Autumn. This is, indeed, the season of letting go. Loss, life and moving on.
https://veronikarobinson.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/Updated-logo-colour.png00Veronika Sophia Robinsonhttps://veronikarobinson.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/Updated-logo-colour.pngVeronika Sophia Robinson2014-09-17 15:22:472014-09-17 15:22:47A time to let go
It’s such a gorgeous Autumn morning here in the Eden Valley. My husband Paul and I are in ‘my’ writing room (which doubles as a guest room and second lounge room and general workspace for the whole family) at work on our various projects. Eliza’s at school. Bethany’s asleep (four days till she leaves for university!!!!) I love this time of day when the early morning Sun isn’t long over the hills, mist is in the fields before me, and there’s a gentleness to the morning.
It took a long time to get to the point where we could create a life where we mostly work side by side rather than Paul being at other work. I enjoy this daily companionship so much (though I still need to find a way to press the ‘off’ button when Paul starts talking to me about sports).
In April, we will have been together for twenty years. I have no sense of our relationship being ‘old’, even though when we met it was:
“I’ve known you forever”
at first sight.
I still love it when Paul holds my hand as we walk down the street, or puts his arm around my waist for a cuddle as we’re waiting in a queue. I never tire of the way his face lights up when he sees me.
So, in April, we will have a Vow Renewal Ceremony shared with our friends to honour this chapter of our lives. We both feel we’ve grown and changed a lot in that time. Renewing our vows is about recognising this, and saying ‘we still do’.
The story of how we got together still makes me smile. I invited Paul for dinner and he never went home again. We moved in together straight away. This photo is from the morning after that dinner. My flatmate said ‘let’s get a photo so you can remember this day’… as if I’d forget!
It is, indeed, a privilege to grow old together (even if he has few wrinkles than me!)
Do you eat together as a family? What does tea time look like in your home?
For me, it is an important coming-together time. It’s a place where we share not only our food, but our day.
We light a candle, often play some gentle music, say a prayer of gratitude for the meal, and dine together. According to recent statistics, this isn’t how most families spend their meals.
It is in this part of our daily rhythm where we will feel the biggest ‘hole’ when Bethany leaves for university in eight days.
Would you be a stay-at-home mother? Do you feel you don’t have a choice and that the economic climate ‘forces’ you to leave your children with someone else?
https://veronikarobinson.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/Updated-logo-colour.png00Veronika Sophia Robinsonhttps://veronikarobinson.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/Updated-logo-colour.pngVeronika Sophia Robinson2014-09-12 08:56:392014-09-12 09:03:44Would you be a stay-at-home mother?
