Infusing Honey with Lavender for Comfort, Care, and Thoughtful Giving
- bgcs-as1.com
- 4 days ago
- 6 min read
A slow, comforting homestead ritual that feeds more than just your body
Let me pull you in close for a second. Not with instructions. Not with a checklist. But with a feeling. 🌿
Picture this with me.
A quiet morning. The kind that doesn’t announce itself, it just happens. Sunlight drifts across the kitchen table, warming the scratches in the wood that tell stories of meals past. There’s a mug nearby, steam curling lazily upward ☕, and in your hands is a jar of honey — golden, thick, glowing like it’s holding summer hostage.
On the counter sits a small bowl of dried lavender buds. Soft purple. Gentle. Waiting.
Nothing is demanding your attention right now. No buzzing phone. No clock yelling at you to move faster. Just this moment. 😊
This is where lavender honey begins.
Not as a recipe. Not as content. But as a pause.
Infusing honey with lavender is one of those quiet homestead acts that doesn’t try to impress anyone. It doesn’t rush. It doesn’t multitask. It just exists, and somehow invites you to do the same. And if you’ve been carrying a little extra weight lately — in your shoulders, in your chest, in your thoughts — this kind of making can feel like a small exhale you didn’t realize you were holding.
I didn’t start making lavender honey because I read about its benefits (though there are plenty). I started because I had lavender left over from the garden and a jar of honey already open. That was it. No grand plan. No intention beyond wanting something gentle.
And honestly? That’s how most of the good things start around here.
If you’re the kind of person who likes to see it laid out clearly before you start, here’s the simple way I make lavender honey at home
Simple Recipe: How I Infuse Honey with Lavender 🍯🌿
Ingredients
1 cup raw honey 🍯Light-colored honey works best so the lavender flavor stays soft and floral.👉 Amazon Affiliate link: raw clover honey
¼ cup dried culinary lavender buds 💜Make sure they’re food-grade and fully dried.👉 Amazon Affiliate link: culinary lavender buds
Supplies
Glass jar with lid (pint-size works well)👉 Amazon Affiliate link: mason jars / wide-mouth jars
Spoon or honey dipper 🥄👉 Amazon Affiliate link: wooden honey dipper
Fine mesh strainer or cheesecloth👉 Amazon Affiliate link: cheesecloth pack
(Optional but helpful)
Small saucepan or bowl for warm water (to loosen thick honey later)
Step-by-Step Instructions 🐝
Lightly crush the dried lavender buds. Rub them gently between your fingers to release their natural oils. This helps the flavor infuse more evenly.
Add lavender to the jar. Place the crushed lavender buds into the bottom of a clean, dry glass jar.
Pour honey over the lavender. Slowly pour the honey into the jar, making sure the lavender is completely submerged. Honey protects and preserves — uncovered herbs are what cause problems.
Stir gently. Use a spoon or honey dipper to stir just enough to distribute the lavender and remove air bubbles.
Seal the jar tightly. Wipe the rim clean, then close the lid.
Let it infuse. Place the jar in a warm spot (like a sunny windowsill 🌞).
Minimum: 24 hours (very mild flavor)
Ideal: 1–2 weeks
Maximum: up to 4 weeks
Gently flip or roll the jar every day or two.
Taste and strain. When the flavor feels right to you, strain out the lavender using a fine mesh strainer or cheesecloth.
👉 Tip: If the honey is thick, place the jar in warm (not hot) water for a few minutes to help it flow.
Store and enjoy. Transfer the strained honey to a clean jar, label it, and store in a cool, dry place. Shelf life is up to one year.
Lavender has always been a plant people lean on when life feels loud. It shows up in bedtime routines, tucked into drawers, stitched into pillows, simmered into teas. It doesn’t overpower. It softens. It reassures. 💜
Honey does that too, in its own way. It soothes sore throats. It comforts tired bodies. It has this ancient, steady reputation for being something you can trust. When things hurt — physically or otherwise — honey is often the first thing we reach for without even thinking about it.
When you bring the two together, something shifts.
Lavender-infused honey doesn’t shout “look at me.”It whispers, “you’re okay.”
When I make it now, I don’t overthink the process. I’ve learned that this is one of those projects that actually gets better when you stop hovering.
I start with dried lavender buds — always dried. Fresh lavender is beautiful, but moisture and honey don’t play nicely together. Dried lavender feels safer, steadier, more patient. I rub the buds gently between my fingers, just enough to wake them up. The scent blooms immediately, and the kitchen changes. 🌸
Then the honey.
I pour it slowly into the jar, watching it wrap itself around the lavender like a blanket. Thick. Unhurried. Almost meditative. I give it a gentle stir — not aggressive, not rushed — just enough to introduce everything properly. The smell at this stage is subtle, but promising. Sweet first. Floral second. Calm underneath it all.
I seal the jar and set it somewhere warm and visible. A windowsill is my favorite. Not because it’s necessary, but because I like seeing it there, catching the light as the days pass. ☀️
Every now and then, when I remember, I pick it up and turn it over once or twice. Slowly. Carefully. Then it goes right back where it was.
That’s it.
No timers. No stress. No “are we there yet?”
Just time doing what time does best.
After a few days, I’ll open the jar and take a small taste. Not to judge it. Just to check in. Sometimes it’s already perfect — light, floral, barely-there in the best way. Other times, it needs more time. And that’s okay.
Lavender doesn’t rush its work. Neither should you.
When it’s ready, I strain the honey slowly. This part always takes longer than I expect, and I’ve learned not to fight it. Honey moves on its own schedule. I let it drip. I let it linger. I might warm the jar slightly if the honey feels stubborn, but never too much. This isn’t about speed. 🍯
The strained honey goes into a clean jar, smooth and glowing. Sometimes I leave it plain. Sometimes I tuck a completely dry sprig of lavender into the jar just for the look of it. Either way, it never lasts as long as I think it will.
What I love most about lavender honey isn’t just how it tastes — though it’s lovely. It’s what it does to the moment you use it.
Stirred into tea at night, it feels like telling your nervous system it can stand down for a while. Drizzled over toast in the morning, it turns an ordinary breakfast into something that feels cared for. Spread on warm bread with butter, it’s comfort you don’t have to explain to anyone. 💛
There’s something grounding about knowing you made this. That it didn’t come from a shelf or a label. That it sat quietly in your home, changing slowly, while life kept moving around it.
And maybe that’s why it feels so good to share.
A small jar of lavender honey makes people pause. It makes them smile. It makes them feel seen. Tied with twine, maybe a dried lavender sprig tucked under the lid, it becomes more than a gift — it becomes a message.
“I thought of you.”“I wanted you to feel comfort.”“I made this with my hands.”
Those are powerful things to give someone. 💕
Lavender honey isn’t flashy. It isn’t loud. It doesn’t need to be.
It sits quietly in the pantry, waiting for the moment you need it. And when you do, it shows up exactly as it is — steady, gentle, nourishing.
I hope when you make this, you don’t rush through it. I hope you let the scent linger on your hands. I hope you notice the way the light moves through the jar. I hope you allow it to be more than a task on a list.
Because sometimes, feeding yourself isn’t about calories or nutrients or productivity.
Sometimes it’s about calm. Sometimes it’s about comfort. Sometimes it’s about remembering that simple, slow things still have a place in your life. 🌿
From my kitchen to yours — happy infusing, friend. 🍯💜
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