A Recipe Card Found in Granny Jay's Suitcase

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 to care for between the showers. But each year the cold winds would find her hands and heels.

The skin would crack.

Sometimes it was little more than an annoyance. Other times it became painful enough to slow her down.

And Granny Jay was not a woman who enjoyed being slowed down.

One particularly stormy winter, after struggling to button her coat with sore fingers, she declared that something had to be done.

So she began experimenting.

Her kitchen soon resembled Oom Hendricks' botanical workshop. Jars lined the shelves. Dried herbs hung from beams. Notes covered the table.

A little of this.

Too much of that.

Back to the beginning.

For weeks she pottered about, blending oils, butters and fragrant botanicals gathered from her beloved Cape landscape.

At last she created something that felt just right.

Rich enough to comfort weather-worn skin.

Light enough to absorb without fuss.

Softly scented with the gentle sweetness of flowers and herbs.

And finished with the faintest touch of camphor, whose familiar fragrance reminded her of winter evenings spent beside a warm fire.

She rubbed the cream into her hands before bed.

By morning they felt softer.

By the end of the week the cracks had begun to heal.

Within a month she was recommending the cream to neighbors, family members and anyone else brave enough to complain about winter in her presence.

"Nature has already provided the answer," she would say. "Sometimes we simply need to pay attention."

Years later, whenever the winter rains sweep across the Cape and the wind rattles the windows, we remember Granny Jay standing at her kitchen table, determined to find a remedy for hardworking hands.

The result was more than a moisturising cream.

It was a little jar of comfort for the coldest days of the year.

— From Granny Jay's Recipe Cards