The Archive Room

A Journal Entry Found Between Pressed Rosemary Sprigs The rosemary by the kitchen door has grown taller than the windowsill again. Oom Hendricks says it thrives because I talk to it. I say it thrives because I remember to water it. He insists we are both right. This morning I noticed young Anna tying a scarf around her hair before walking into the village. When I asked why, she smiled politely and changed the subject. Later, her mother confessed that Anna had become worried a

Granny Jay had a deep love for herbs, especially rosemary. As I begin exploring herbal infusions and learning how to incorporate rosemary into natural beauty products, I often think of her and the wisdom she carried. Rosemary seemed to find its way into almost everything she made—from comforting family recipes to handmade soaps, and even her famous shortbread. I can only imagine how many rosemary bushes must have grown in her garden, filling the air with their fresh, earthy f

Rooibos-Infused Olive Oil for Skin: A South African Botanical Treasure If you’re passionate about natural skincare, you’ve probably heard about the incredible benefits of rooibos. This iconic South African plant has long been enjoyed as a soothing herbal tea, but it’s also becoming a sought-after ingredient in handcrafted skincare. One of the best ways to capture its goodness is by creating rooibos-infused olive oil—a luxurious botanical infusion that combines the antioxidant

In the Quiet of My Garden There is something about a garden that slows the heart and settles the mind. Whenever life felt busy, I would find my favourite chair beneath the roses, basket at my feet, and simply listen. The bees were always busy, the birds never seemed to be in a hurry, and somehow they reminded me that nature has its own perfect rhythm. This is where my best ideas were born. As I watched the lavender sway in the breeze or picked rose petals for drying, I’d wond

Entry found in journal - The Orchard years. This evening I walked through the orchard just as the sun was slipping behind the mountains. There is a curious hour when the fruit trees seem to hold their breath. The day’s warmth still clings to the branches, yet the evening air has begun to cool. The apples carry their sweetest scent then, and the last of the bergamot blossoms drift gently upon the breeze. In the distance I could see a small fire burning. One of the orchard hand

A charming postcard from glamorous Genevieve in Paris, playfully reassuring her sister of her upcoming visit. Granny Jay read the letter twice before folding it neatly back into its envelope. For years, Geneviève had lived in Paris, returning home whenever she could. Yet every visit seemed to bring the same mystery. She never appeared to age. While Granny Jay had earned every laugh line, every wrinkle and every silver strand through a life well lived, Geneviève somehow arrive

It all began with a cold wind and a jar of cream. After finally perfecting her winter moisturising cream, Granny Jay was rather pleased with herself. The cracks on her hands had softened, her heels no longer caught on her stockings, and she could once again go about her daily chores without complaint. One particularly cold morning, she dabbed a little of the cream onto her lips. The winter wind had left them dry and chapped, and it seemed a sensible thing to do. The cream wor

A little Note I found possibly before Granny Jay cooked up her hand cream. The Cape winters have a way of fooling you. The rain arrives gently at first. The wind whistles around the corners of the house. The mornings seem crisp rather than cold. Yet before long, the chill settles deep into your bones and leaves its mark on hardworking hands. Granny Jay knew this all too well. Winter was her busiest season. There were fires to tend, bread to bake, letters to write, and gardens

I found this postcard in Granny Jays suitcase How lucky was Granny Jay? Without ever boarding a ship or crossing an ocean, she was able to explore one of the most remarkable botanical regions on Earth. The mountains around Cape Town are part of the Cape Floristic Region, home to thousands of plant species, many found nowhere else in the world. From fragrant Buchu and wild Geranium to the hardy Rooibos and countless varieties of Fynbos, every walk offered something new to disc

One afternoon, Granny Jay returned from the mountains with a basket full of leaves, flowers, stems and seeds. Oom Hendricks laughed when he saw her. "You haven't brought me a plant today," he said. "What have I brought then?" she asked. "The Cape itself." He spread the collection across the table. Proteas. Restios. Ericas. Aromatic shrubs and flowering stems. Together they formed part of a remarkable natural kingdom known as Fynbos. Oom Hendricks explained that Fynbos is foun

Granny Jay's favorite—vibrant and striking geranium blooms in full, lush glory. Granny Jay noticed the scent before she noticed the plant. A soft rose-like fragrance drifted across the mountain path, carried on the afternoon breeze. Following the scent, she found a cluster of delicate leaves and gathered a few to take home. As always, she sought the opinion of Oom Hendricks. The botanist crushed a leaf between his fingers and smiled immediately. "Wild Geranium," he declared.

The mountains were wearing their summer colours when Granny Jay set out on one of her wandering adventures. She always said the best discoveries happened when you weren't looking for them. Near a rocky slope she noticed a shrub with fine needle-like leaves swaying gently in the breeze. She clipped a small branch and tucked it into her basket. By afternoon she was standing at Oom Hendricks' gate. "What have I found this time?" she asked. The old botanist adjusted his spectacl

The Buchu growing in the Western Cape Granny Jay was never one to stay indoors for long. Whenever the mountain called, she answered. With a basket on her arm and sturdy shoes on her feet, she would wander along winding paths searching for new plants, unusual leaves, and fragrant herbs. Every walk was a lesson waiting to be discovered. Of course, not every plant was easy to identify. Whenever she found something unfamiliar, she would turn to Oom Hendricks—the village botanist,

Just Opened the Suitcase and Learnt How Granny Jay Got Her Name Among the treasures tucked away in Granny's old suitcase was a story I had never heard before—a story about her name. Her real name was Jacqueline. But in the village where she spent part of her life, people struggled to pronounce it. They tried. They really did. Yet "Jacqueline" seemed determined to twist itself into something else every time it passed from one mouth to another. Some called her "Madam Jay." Othe

There are some things we keep because they are useful. And there are some things we keep because they hold memories. For years, an old suitcase sat quietly among family keepsakes. It wasn't particularly valuable. The leather was worn, the corners were scuffed, and the brass clasps had long since lost their shine. One afternoon, curiosity finally got the better of me. Inside I found more than I ever expected. There were weathered notebooks, folded letters, handwritten recipes,