Homemade Lavender Sachets & Homemade Memories // The Homebody

  
This past Sunday, I was walking my dog around Toluca Lake prior to coffee at Priscilla’s (as usual) and a day of shooting. I do this quite often, but something was different about this particular occasion. This time, I was watching moms carrying toddlers in one arm and a casserole in the other, heading into beautiful homes for Mother’s Day brunch. With a deep breath and a long exhale, I actually said out loud, “I miss my family.”

Being across the country isn’t always easy, as we have these longings and desires for connection to the people who are so dear to us. And while it’s nowhere near the same, this is where I truly developed a deep love for gift-giving. I absolutely love being able to create and send something with memories attached, in hopes that in some small way, it offers a tangible representation of the immense love I carry in my heart. I did always feel a bit bad being the creative child, giving all my homemade gifts. But I do think they’ve improved over time from the frozen ketchup experiments and sketches that read, “sail naked!”  

My Mimi (my mom’s mom) always had a green thumb, and was actually a florist for a while. She would make these lovely sachets for our linens and drawers, leaving a lasting scent and even more lasting memories. They do say that the sense of smell is one of the strongest ties to our emotional connection to memory, and this Mother’s Day I wanted to do that for my mama. 

This is something you can do so easily at home, because it only requires dried lavender and a sachet bag! I used dried lavender from my garden here in Los Angeles and placed it inside a small, mesh drawstring bag. If you are feeling extra crafty, you can also sew your own sachet with any fabric and shape you like. Place it inside your pillowcase to relieve headaches and bring calm, or place in your clothing or lingerie drawer for a fresh lavender scent. 

I sent this sachet off to my mom for Mother’s Day as a reminder of not only our connection, but of her close connection to her mother who is no longer physically here with us. The older I get, the more I realize that the good memories matter. Let’s keep holding them close. 

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