The Amish Natural Home Remedies: 3000 Time-Tested Herbal Remedies for Your Family’s Well-Being | Embrace Amish Wisdom and Preserve Generations of Herbal Knowledge Passed Down Through Families

The old remedies, written down proper, with the measurements put in

Every well-kept kitchen has the shelf. Elderberry syrup put up in September. A salve for chapped hands that gets made every November, whether anybody's asked for it or not. Chamomile drying in a paper bag because it was a good year for it and you weren't going to let it go to waste.

Most books of this kind hand you a list of herbs and wish you luck. You're left guessing at the quantities, wondering whether you've steeped it long enough, and hoping you haven't wasted an afternoon and a good handful of chamomile.

This one gives you the recipes

Seventy-odd preparations, each one set down the same way. What it makes. How long it takes. What you'll need, and what to have ready on the counter before you start. What to do, in order. Then a few notes at the end for next time, once you know how you like it.

Teas and tinctures. Salves, syrups, compresses and oils. Nothing fancy, nothing that wants a specialist shop — the sort of thing that got made in season and kept on the shelf, because it worked well enough to be worth making again the following year. What's in it: For women. Teas and tonics for the monthly ache. Something warm for when your stomach's unsettled. Salves and compresses, and gentle infusions for the different seasons of a life. For the children. Colic, coughs, and the nights when nobody sleeps. Made from things you can pronounce and mostly already have. For skin and hands. Cleansers, scrubs, balms and oils, out of honey and oatmeal and calendula. No label to squint at, because you wrote it yourself. What's worth keeping. The herbs earn their place on the shelf, what each one is good for, and what you can do without. The herb calendar. When to gather and when to leave be. How to dry it, and how to store what you've made so it's still good come winter. A chapter on care. What to leave alone. When a remedy isn't the answer. And when to put the kettle down and go and ring the doctor. Made to be used, not admired Every preparation is laid out the same, so once you've made the one you can make any of them. Yield. Time. What goes in and what you'll want to hand. The steps in order, written for somebody who hasn't done it before.

None of this stands in for a doctor, and it isn't meant to. The last chapter says so plainly, and tells you when to stop and go and see one.

If you'd sooner make a thing than buy it, and sooner know what went into it than read the back of a bottle, it's here when you want it.