Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Vetiver is a grass with implications. Vetiver "derived from the Tamil வெட்டிவேர்" is native to India where it is known as khus." You khus.
Vetiver's roots grow homing straight down instead of mat-like and sideways-like as do most grasses. It is economically incredibly useful in our constant "coastal casinos vs. Mother Nature" fight against soil erosion! Hooray! (I guess. Depends on how you feel about coastal casinos.)
In my dreams I'm a coastal erosion specialist, but here, in the reality of suburban motherhood where the necessary bulkheading and work at the prevention of erosion is emotional, I'm using vetiver for its Ayurvedic properties. Lord Krishna said, "I am the fragrance of the soil" and dang if blue Krishna wasn't right about Vetiver.
Vetiver smells like a delicious afternoon nap in the sunlight on a mossy bank in a deep forest where you slept so deeply the moss imprinted on your cheek and you woke up and stretched languorously like a cat and there was someone right beside you saying, "Sweetheart? Care for some tea? I'll put the kettle on." It is deep sweet smoky woody and way better than that mess hippy pachouli.
It's Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds, except more like Paloma In The Dirt With Overtones of Tangerine. Smelling my wrist where I had dabbed some essential oil -- which is thick and oozy as honey -- my son, 9 said appreciatively, "Wow, Mom. You smell like a picnic blanket instead of how you usually smell which is scared."