There's something I think about every autumn when there are piles of drying plants on most surfaces, jars of roots and seeds, and the dehydrator is running pretty regularly. I'll show you, but you have to pretend you don't see the dust.
Many years ago my sister and I set out to begin our business, and a friend who had worked for a fairly well known TX potpourri maker agreed to teach us the basics of potpourri.
Now, I think I might be that old woman. My house is like the inside of a 7 year old's pocket, except for the live frogs. Beside me at this very moment is a small jar full of lavender buds from some of this year's crop and a Mason jar of mint tea. Also, the neighbor kids seem a little scared of me.
Beginning with this picture up near the ceiling - a foot long pine cone, a couple gourds, feathers and dried plants, and a twisted piece of vine. But this is nothing.
This is only scratching the surface. There isn't a drawer or shelf without some remnant of nature or some herbal project I'm working on. A bottle cap holding a dozen beans, acorns, feathers, and rocks. a jar of fragrant salve - it all infuses my life.
Sometimes I wonder if someone was looking around my house without knowing me, what they'd think when they saw this wonderful cache of every herb, oil, or preparation I could ever want. They'd probably be looking for my broom.