That last part is what sold me on it. Does that make me shallow?
Oh well, I don't care. Especially when it keeps me from buying all those expensive anti-aging creams at the store! I like saving money.
So, I slipped on my garden gloves, grabbed a basket and my clippers, and made a beeline to the rose bushes.
Actually, I didn't really need my clippers because once I grasped the blossoms, the petals simply fell off into the basket. I guess when they saw my shiny clippers coming, they figured they might as well surrender. Smart move.
I then poured enough olive oil over them to completely cover all the petals.
This is actually the shortcut method--and I'm all about shortcuts. But the other option is to cap the jar and let it set in the windowsill for 3-4 weeks, allowing the sunlight to slow-infuse the oil.
I do this when there is actually sunlight coming steadily through my window for 3-4 weeks at a time. However, this time of year it's hard to come by that much sunlight for that length of time.
Thank goodness I had that other option. Plan B's come in handy a lot at my house.
There are many ways to do this task, but these tools seem to do the job well for me. The tea strainer catches the petals and particles while allowing the oil to flow through, and the measuring cup shows me how much oil I end up with.
And it makes my fingers smell all nice and rosy. Bonus!
The pint-size jar of rose petals netted me about 10 ounces of rose-infused oil, and I was very pleased with that amount. I could feel my skin yearning for it already.
But my skin had to be patient. Although, I did have a special treat in mind for later...
Since I'm not a professional rose oil infuser-ista, I'm never able to get every last bit of oil out of the petals. I can't stand to toss them away, so I leave them on the counter until nighttime, and then (here's the kicker) I add them to my nice warm bath. The petals release such a heavenly scent when immersed in the steaming water, and the olive oil is extremely moisturizing. The soothing effects are nothing short of glorious. Do I hear angels singing?
The ancient Greeks used to bathe this way, and so of course, I have to also.
It's all very goddess-like. I said goddess-like. As in, I would like to be a goddess.
I think I have a long way to go...but it's a job I just might accept if offered.
Who wouldn't, if they get to bathe like that?!