🌿 Love in the Family Orchard

At this point in the summer, everything smells like campfire, chlorine, and essential oils. Always essential oils. It’s who I am.

I love the smells of the season—the way they stick to skin and memory.

We’ve been deep in family these past few weeks. Not just visiting, but immersing.

We drove the Oregon coast, spent time with my siblings, met babies with our noses, and laughed late into the night. I met my first great-nephew—a beautiful, tiny piece of legacy I didn’t know I needed to witness in order to feel whole. I watched my brother, once the young dad I met in my twenties, now glowing with the tenderness of a grandfather. It brought tears to my eyes—so much love packed into just a few days.

We sang musicals in the car on the way to the coast.
We ate salt water taffy in weird and wonderful flavors.
We drew family names in the sand and took photos we’ll all forget to print.

My daughters had cousin time with older kids who spoiled them with piggyback rides, inside jokes, and snacks. My oldest brought her best friend with us, and she was immediately folded into the family. No bloodline required—just love and a willingness to accept the chaos that family brings.

And in the middle of all that beauty, something else quietly bloomed:
My business showed up, too.

Gently. Naturally. In the way it was always meant to.

My nieces and nephews explored the aroma balms I brought along. My sister-in-law and niece shared a blend they both adored. My niece’s boyfriend, who works hard with his hands, tried Monkey Balm and bought it. Everyone gave feedback, asked questions, made suggestions. They supported me—not out of obligation, but out of real interest. I pour love into everything I create. Being seen and supported by the people who love me? That felt sacred.

Their enthusiasm sparked new ideas:
I’m working on turning my aroma balms into roll-on perfumes.
I’m restocking what works really well and I need more of.
I’m fully aware that my work and life aren’t separate.
They’re braided. And always will be.

Of course, the sun and sugar and salt and stress are all showing up on my skin.
I’ve been mostly indoors for months and now, suddenly, it’s all elements and weather and hormonal chaos. Perimenopause is working its way through my skin with itchy, painful cysts and sudden flares. I’m not immune. But I am my own best test subject.

This week I pulled my routine back to basics:
Oil cleansing with my homemade argan, calendula, and geranium blend.
Mild exfoliation with raw honey and bee pollen.
Simple. Nourishing. Healing.

And it’s working.
Slowly, but surely.
My face is calming down, and I’m remembering: when I treat myself like a client, I heal. When I trust my formulations, they do what they were made to do.

Now I’m back home for a few days—teaching a class, restocking inventory, prepping for our next Avery Adventure.

I’m showing up for my girls.
I’m showing up for myself.
And I’m still chasing presence, even in the family circus.

We’re not just giving love to the roots in this family orchard—we’re watering them. And I can already feel the fruit growing.

—Charlynn