Fever Grass Wasn’t Just for Fever
Long before lemongrass became a darling of the wellness industry, it lived in Caribbean kitchens, gardens, and medicine cabinets—though no one called it lemongrass. We knew it as fever grass, because that’s exactly what it was for. The cure for fevers, flus, belly aches, and bad moods.
When we were children, it was what your grandmother reached for first. A handful torn from the yard. Washed and boiled into a tea. Sometimes with ginger. Sometimes with garlic. Sometimes with prayer.
Fever grass wasn’t just medicine. It was ritual. It was knowledge passed on without ceremony, inherited in the hands and instincts of women who had learned from their mothers before them.
It was used in:
- Bush teas to reduce fever and ease digestion
- Bush baths to cleanse the body and ward off spiritual illness
- Room washes and floor mops when energy felt heavy or unsettled
To the outsider, it was just a grassy herb. But for us, fever grass was a signal. That we were being cared for. That someone was looking out for us. That what we needed could still be found in the soil.
How We Bottled It
When we created our lemongrass scent, we weren’t chasing a trend. We were tracing lineage. Paying respect. Giving fragrance to the memory of care and survival.
Our lemongrass isn’t the sharp, lemony note you find in store-bought soaps. It’s green. Dewy. Grounded. It carries the weight of bush medicine and the warmth of Caribbean sun.It also carries practicality: lemongrass is a natural insect repellent. That’s why our customers swear by our candles for keeping flies and mosquitoes out the house.
We don’t just use lemongrass because it smells good. We use it because it means something.