Benedict's Garden Herbal Bath Tea

The infirmarian had been on his feet since Lauds. Three monks down with fever. One with a wound that wouldn't close. Another too weak to lift his head.

He moved between pallets. A poultice here, a tea there. Checking pulses, changing linens, whispering prayers.

By Vespers, his hands were shaking. Had he already given Brother Thomas the willow bark? He couldn't remember. Couldn't remember the last time he'd sat down.

"Care of the sick must rank above and before all else, so that they may be truly served as Christ."

Chapter 36 of the Rule of St. Benedict. The Rule he'd sworn to keep.

He gazed out the garden window. Of course!

He swiped a knife from the table, threw a bag over his shoulder, and dashed outside. Peppermint leaves—stimulating. Rosemary—clarifying. Yarrow from the far bed—astringent. To the stores for lemon peel and coriander—toning and warming.

Wait– he peered into the bag with a frown. Turning on his heel, he headed back outside to the garden. Ah, there it was: Mary's Crown. He held up the bright blue blossoms. Cooling, for weary eyes. Perfect.

In the kitchen, he boiled water to steep the mixture, soaked a cloth in the infusion, and pressed it to his face, his eyes, the back of his neck. He breathed in the sharp green heat.

Now his head was clear. His hands calm and steady.

Back to the infirmary.

This monastery garden blend follows the Benedictine tradition: herbs to rejuvenate, when you've been serving others as Christ. For when you need to feel like yourself again.