Pine + Ash
Fragrance Notes: Wood, Oakmoss, Smoke
Our Story: My great-grandma grew up a Kentucky coal miner’s daughter. Her parents were stone cold Appalachians—raising hogs and making lye soap from hog fat mixed with wood ash. Nothing went to waste in that house— there was never enough to waste. Seasonal changes brought the variety, but there were the constants. Wood. Smoke. The plants and animals. We still live this way—me, my mother, and my grandmother—we waste nothing.
Queen of the Night
Fragrance Notes: Sweet Floral, Amber
Our Story: We’ve kept the same Night-Blooming Cereus plant for as long as I can remember, spreading starts across our home for years. A lanky, cactus type, I thought the thing was god-awful-ugly growing up and couldn’t figure out why we kept one of them, let alone so many starts all over our home. Our species rarely blooms, and when she does, it’s at night with her flowers slyly wilting before dawn. To witness the bloom is a small miracle—outside in the night air, the heavy sweet scent hanging thick over our land.
Morning Mist
Fragrance Notes: Orange, Patchouli, Lavender
Our Story: I picture my Gram always in her garden in the early hours of the morning. The first cup of coffee she has gets an ice cube to cool it just enough to drink like a shot, but the second cup goes with her outside. She’s still dressed in her long white nightgown, walking through her garden while mist rises up off the creek.
Woodmint
Fragrance Notes: Cedar and Spearmint
Throughout the year you can find us enjoying a cup of herbal tea, but in the summer months particularly sun tea that makes you feel like you are sipping on sunshine. One of our favorites to prepare is wood mint tea. The wood mint grows on the other side of the creek all season long and we love to gather it fresh in the morning, stuffing a jar half full then topping it off with water. It soaks in the sun all day—the mild minty flavor diffusing throughout by evening, when its ready to strain and drink with supper.
Untamed
Fragrance Notes: Rose, Geranium, Green Grass
Wild pink roses grew all along the fence line of my childhood home. Tangled and half choked, they danced with passionflower vines, blackberry bushes and other invasive plants. Boundless and wildly beautiful—they are the women in my family—strong and untamed as the land they live on.
