This is from my friend's craft business - I went to her house and took pictures of all the different kinds of soap she makes. This one is a rosewater soap.
The water was poured through the ashes, mixed with the lard and stirred. Heat rose from vat along with fumes, ascending toward the rafters of the barn. She had to take care that she didn't breath in those fumes, lest she turn away, coughing, and drop the spoon in the vat. It required constant stirring.
Slowly, the clear liquid turned cloudy, thickening so that each pass with the heavy wooden spoon seemed like rowing upstream of the river. She lifted the spoon, draping a trail in the texture of the liquid's surface. It was almost ready.
Powdered rose petals, oil of lavendar, rubbed sage. She stirred them in, then poured it into molds. Tomorrow, it would be solid enough to cut. But still, it took time to cure. In another moon, the soap could be sold at market. But she'd keep some for herself; you never knew when magic might strike.