Reflections
Ever since I was little, I liked to stay active and tinker. I grew up on a farm that had been in my dad’s family for generations. My playhouse was my great-grandparents antebellum log cabin. My backyard was a creek and boy-scout camp. My adventures involved cows, an occasional horse, our well-loved 3-wheeler, and alligators. Sometimes we visited neighbors down our long dirt road, but mostly, I wandered over to my grandmother’s house, in the house that she and my grandfather built back in the early 50’s, across from his parents. My Nanny. She used to call me her shadow. I use past tense only because she has Alzheimer’s now and she doesn’t seem to have memories of the past anymore.
I had no siblings, just random dogs and cats that found their way to our front door to live out the rest of their lives. My parents worked some distance away as our small town did not offer much to its inhabitants other than a road to go somewhere else.
Many days I wandered over to my Nanny’s house just to see what she was doing. She enjoyed having company over and oftentimes that meant crafts. I knew when craft night was, that was when 3 or 4 of Nanny’s friends would come over & they’d all create something - using coffee cans, pieces of wood, acrylic paint, who knows what, but you can be assured the night would end with, “Ain’t that as cute as it can be?” I, of course included myself, so I’d help Nanny with whatever she was doing. I loved Nanny’s friends like they were my own. As a 6 year old, I thought Ms. Judy, Ms. Jo, Aunt Francis (my great-aunt), and Aunt Lorraine (no relation, that’s just what we said) were all my friends too.
When my 8th grade field trip came around, my Nanny & I looked through craft magazines to buy supplies to make things to sell at our town’s “Christmas on the Main”. That one special day a year when the few blocks of Main Street were shut down so that the whole town could come down and shop for needless crap.
We found pine cones and decorated them with paint and ribbon and glitter for Christmas ornaments, we made raffia ribbon bows to decorate gifts or trees with, filled glass orbs with potpourri, just random little knickknacks. I don’t know how much we made, but I’m sure there was a little bit that helped contribute to the trip. (Our 8th grade field trip was to D.C. From Texas. A bunch of 12-13 yr old country kids rode in 2 buses from Texas to DC in 2 days. It was amazing. The FBI building, the US Mint, using Travellers' cheques! We all got sick from rolling down mountains in Virginia - we’d never rolled down a mountain! Who knew that was nauseating? Obviously, it was just a hill, but being from flat southeast Texas, they were mountains to us.)
Fast forward to 2 years ago. My mother gave me some little jars of concoctions - lovely creams and body washes that she had researched and created herself with oils and butters and essential oils like lavender and peppermint. Not only did I enjoy using them, but I enjoyed learning her process and I quickly wanted to do it myself. They were more special because since we live on opposite sides of the country from each other, I thought about her each time I opened one. I knew she had put in a lot of time and care and consideration into each reused glass jar.
Point is, I’ve always enjoyed making things. I’m now turning that into a step above a hobby. For the past year, I’ve been experimenting with oils and herbs and flowers (and lye). I’ve tinkered with various methods and recipes, watched lots of YouTube, read books, had some great ideas, some odd ideas, some bad ideas. My favorite things, I’m now sharing.
I want people to understand that I am creating something that I use myself, that I share with my family and friends, that I think this is a product worth paying for. I’ve put in a lot of time testing, growing, waiting, being annoyed, being excited and I want to share it with y’all.
I hope you love the products as well.
Elizabeth