Receipt Book
of Eleanor

A Tisane for the Cough

Take a small handful of horehound leaves, dried, and a thumb of fresh ginger root if it is to be had. Pour upon them a measure of boiled water, and steep until the steam smells bitter at the back of the throat. Strain. Stir in a spoonful of honey. Give a cupful to the patient at first light, at noon, and at the going of the sun.

If the cough is dry, add a knot of comfrey root.

If the cough is wet, omit the comfrey and add a sprig of thyme.

A Comfrey Poultice for the Swellings

Comfrey leaf, fresh if the season permits, dried otherwise. Crush in the mortar with a measure of warm water and a thread of clean fat. Apply to the swelling with the fingers, working from the centre outward. Bind with linen. Renew at every changing of the bell.

The swellings will not always go down. Sometimes the work is the staying-with, not the curing.

Willow Bark for the Heat

Strip a length of bark from a young willow, in the spring if you may, but the autumn will serve. Steep in cold water overnight. Drain. Re-steep in boiled water. The brew is bitter; mask with mint or a spoon of honey if either is to be had.

For a child: half a cup, taken slowly.

For a grown body: a full cup, taken in three drafts at the third part of an hour.

If the patient cannot swallow, dip the linen in the brew and lay it on the brow, the inside of the wrist, and the hollow at the throat. The heat will draw to the cloth.

Yarrow for the Bleeding

Yarrow flowers, dried, ground fine in the cracked mortar. Apply to the wound directly. Press with a clean linen until the flow slows.

For a wound in the throat, the chest, or the deep stomach: apply, but send for the priest also. The herb is not enough.

For a wound that bleeds from no cause anyone can find: the herb will not help. Send for me at any hour.

A Salve for the Burns

Render a measure of clean fat. Stir in lavender, beeswax, and a little of the goldenseal if you keep any. Cool. Apply to the burned skin twice a day, lightly. Keep the burn out of the air when you can.

For burns of the kitchen: this works.

For burns of the spirit: it does not.

Elderflower Tincture for the Fever

Pick the elderflower at first opening, in the late spring. Steep in clear spirits for the turn of one moon. Strain into a small dark bottle. Keep on the shelf above the hearth, where the heat will not catch but the cold will not reach.

A drop on the tongue. No more.

A Prayer the Church Won’t Hear

(This is not for the recipe book. I keep it here because I do not have another place to keep it.)

Hand that has held my hand,
hand that holds it now,
hand that will hold the hand of the one who comes after me —

let me do the work without flinching,
let me sit with the dying without pretending,
let me carry the names that the record will not.

If I am called a witch for it, let me be a witch.
If I am called a fool for it, let me be a fool.
If I am forgotten, let me be remembered by my own.

The Mortar Rite

The mortar is not magic. The mortar is a record.

When you take it from the woman who held it, do not replace it. Do not buy a new one when this one cracks. The crack is part of the record. The crack is where her hand pressed wrongly the first time and learned. The crack is the reason the mortar still grinds.

Do not let anyone in your kitchen mock it. If they cannot understand why you keep a cracked stone bowl, they cannot understand the rest of the work.

On the Pulling-Away

This is not a recipe. This is a thing you must know.

When you lay your hand on a body that has begun to leave, you will feel a draw. It is small. It is steady. It is past you, not toward you. It is the work of separation. It does not hurt. It does not frighten the one leaving. It only frightens the one who can feel it.

You will want to take your hand away. Don’t. Stay until they have finished.

After, your hand will know. It will know for the rest of its life.

The work is not the saving. The saving is sometimes given and sometimes not. The work is the staying-with.