The hot, dry air of winter

This is the winter that will not die.

Some people are tired of the cold.  It’s March–when the bees are supposed to emerge to pollinate budding  red maples– and the weather forecast is still calling for a temperature of ZERO.

Some people are sick of the snow.  My husband, for example, is outside right now chopping more firewood in anticipation of the next sleet/ice/snow/bring-down-the-power lines weather event.  The tractor is constantly hooked to a charger to ensure its ability to start when plowing is next needed.  (That would be in the next couple of days.)

Me?  I’m sick of the hot, dry indoor air.  It is so dry around here that salt is actually pouring out of the salt shakers.  When does that ever happen?  We usually have the salt shaker half filled with rice to soak up the moisture in the air.  This morning I came close to ruining my egg; the salt came out so fast.

It is so dry around here that my hair wants to look like this:

She wasn't swishing her hair.  It was sticking straight out after an encounter with the sofa.

She wasn’t swishing her hair. It was sticking straight out after an encounter with the sofa.

Fortunately I have a bathroom full of products to help me look a little more like a grown-up: volumizing shampoo, moisturizing conditioners,  ultra poufy mousse, anchor-it in-place sprays, and shiny stuff to give the illusion of sunlight reflecting off it.  It all sort of works.  My hair isn’t quite as bad as sweet little Emily’s, but it is craving humidity.

And so is my skin.  Ack!  Every night I go to bed with my feet slathered in moisturizer and tucked into socks.  My hands, too, are lotioned and gloved.  I look like Minnie Mouse without the ears.  And still my skin is like sandpaper.  My lip balm recipe (in larger containers!) works great on my hands and feet, but is not too practical for full-body application.  My whole body really needs a milk bath.  Lactic acid, ladies.  It sloughs off that dry skin and leaves the rest nice and soft.

This the winter where the least little thing will set off an episode of eczema.  I touched chalk the other day.  I was reckless, I know.  I did not use my special chalk holder.  It was in my desk because I hardly use chalk anymore.  I just wanted to tally points for a competitive activity in class.  A few measly little slash marks on the board.  Ka-bam.  Circle of eczema on my hand.

I was moaning about this with my hairdresser who moaned back that she has gotten eczema on her neck this winter.  She’s dumbfounded.  Her neck?  A friend of mine gets it on her eyelids.  Yes, ouch.

My eyelid suffering friend has found the bees to be part of her skin care routine.  She uses honey to help soothe and heal her eczema flare-ups.

Here’s her concoction:

Lisa’s Honey Mask

  • 1 tablespoon of honey (Maywood honey, of course!)
  • “some” freshly  grated nutmeg
  • 3-4 capsules of Vitamin E.

Grate “some” nutmeg into the honey.  Cut open the Vitamin E and mix it in with the honey/nutmeg.  Apply to face and leave on for 30-60 minutes.  Rinse it off.   (I suppose you could leave it on, but your pillowcase will probably attract ants.)

A bad case of eczema will still require medicine from the dermatologist, but Lisa finds she gets the best results when she uses both the medicine and the honey mask together.  After a few days, the eczema improves rapidly.  Then she just uses the honey when she has a flare-up.

Sweet!

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4 thoughts on “The hot, dry air of winter

  1. I live in the French Alps where my other half is a ski instructor and also keeps bees. I have only seen 4 winters here so far (am Australian), but my skin is suffering terribly with the dry indoor heat. It was so dry I was getting electric shocks everytime I touched anything!! I started using the honey and mixed it in with some oatmeal and a few drops of rose and lavendar essential oil. Lovely stuff.

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  2. Wow. These are all things I have never, ever considered in my entire 25 years living in the South (migrating closer and closer to the equator over he years). Now that I’m eying some career opportunities in NYC, stuff like this has taken on a more sinister and relevant tone to my life.

    If I could bottle some of Florida’s humidity and send it your way, you would have several gallons on your doorstep by tomorrow.

    Like

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