I can sit for hours in the silence of my apartment. The ceiling fan motor spins and it sways the succulents held on string. It's simple. Straight lines of the work table, soft gossamer on the curtain rod. I left the clutter of my life behind twice--left it in Pennsylvania in my mother's curio cabinet, left it again in the spare room closet of our rented home in California.
I've changed the way I look at beauty, at life. How those words can be synonymous. It's intentional, a world of silence. White lines and sunshine. I go toward a slower life. I go toward handpicked goods, handpicked flowers, handpicked friends. I'm inspired by the dust motes in the window sill and I've searched online where I can find dandelions in central Texas. I trim down the toxic, the unnecessary and savor the scattered detritus of my life that I've held on to for 23 years.
This is what attracted me to Little Barn Apothecary so many months ago. The small house sketch, the thought in the details. The use of whole ingredients. The conviction of their philosophy. I treat my body better than the 19 year old who smoked cigarettes for fun and drank vodka from plastic bottles. They've become part of my daily ritual, a daily cleanser and a cotton ball swiped across my face. It feels even more like spring, the way my skin can breathe easy, knowing each intention of nature is locked in the small glass bottle that sits on my bathroom sink.