My favorite word is “apothecary.” Weird right?
I was in eighth grade when I wandered into my very first apothecary. It sat on Duke of Gloucester Street in Colonial Williamsburg, tucked inside a white house with a small sign out front. By the time I got there, I was sweaty, cranky, and dangerously close to locking my brother and sister in the pillory, but I was determined to absorb the experience. I’ve always had a way of diving headfirst into things — once I set my mind on experiencing something fully, I couldn’t let it go. That day, despite the heat and my crankiness, I was determined to finish the tour, to see it all, to not skip a single stop. It felt almost compulsive, like some invisible force was nudging me ahead, making sure I didn’t cut the experience short. Little did I know, the universe was steering me toward something that would quietly shape the way I see my world decades later.
Pasteur & Galt Apothecary Shop, Colonial Williamsburg
A Doorway to Curiosity
The moment I stepped inside, the air shifted — cooler, slightly musty, carrying the earthy scent of dried herbs, mingled with sweet and soothing fragrances of lavender and licorice from the soaps stacked neatly on a shelf. More shelves lined the walls, crowded with jars and bottles filled with powders, roots, and strange liquids, each labeled in flowing, handwritten script. A heavy wooden counter sat in the center, scattered with scales, glass vials, and, of course, the mortar and pestle. Behind the counter, a woman in full colonial garb showed us how apothecaries once measured, mixed, and dispensed remedies by hand. Fascinated by the names I couldn’t pronounce and the tools I didn’t understand, I felt the energy in the room shift — from simply watching a history lesson to being fully immersed in a place where my curiosity and creativity collided. The most important takeaway was learning that the apothecary wasn’t just a place for medicine — it was a meeting spot, a general store, and a hub for daily life. People came not just for remedies, but to ask questions, exchange ideas, and connect. It was a world I imagined living in, a place where every question had an answer and every problem was solved. Even the word “apothecary” moved me — the way the vowels and consonants played together made it the most beautiful word I had ever heard. Simply put, it soothed me.
Mortar and Pestle
A Lifelong Attraction
That experience never left me and lit something inside me that I have never been unable to douse. I’ve since been drawn to apothecaries, or to any shop that reminds me of them. If I spot one, I have to go inside. Even when my family notices one first, they’ll call out, “Mom, look — there’s an apothecary!” Stepping into one still makes me feel grounded, like it’s perfectly okay to be curious about a million things and want to try them all at once. I find myself wanting to explore, learn, and experience everything.
Instagram: @_apothecarrie_
Awakened by the Scent
It took me until my early fifties to realize that the universe had made sure I didn’t quit that hot summer day, didn’t beg to go back to the hotel pool, but instead pushed me toward that one last historic site — the very apothecary that, decades later, would quietly remind me that it’s okay to follow the things that glow within me.
Welcome to Dear Apothecary. Step inside my little shop, a space where curiosity drifts like the scent of an odd fragrance and thoughts wander as freely as the sun through the windows. Here, I ponder, I wonder, I explore — sharing experiences, asking questions, and sometimes trying to answer them. And occasionally, I invite you, the reader, to help fill in the gaps. This is a place where you can figuratively ask for a dose of whatever knowledge I have to offer, knowing I hold no official license — only a desire to share, to muse, and to dream. I want to bring you into my world: dreamy, curious, full of questions, and alive with the wonder of noticing the small signs that connect our lives. Life adds up, and if you pay attention, you’ll start to see the threads that weave your own story — and suddenly, my love for the word ‘apothecary’ won’t feel so weird. Right?
Wish and wander,
Andi
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