The Days Are Long

The days are longer now.

The linens are warm from the line, the garden is full, and the stillroom carries the hush of midsummer.

This page is our gathering place for the season—just a few simple, thoughtful offerings to carry you through the golden weeks ahead.

A Stillroom Story in Scent

Discovered in the gentle rhythm of a summer morning, Summer Sheets was inspired by line-dried cotton, red-painted porches & sitting benches, and the hush of clean linens shaken loose in the breeze. This blend captures the feeling of those moments: warm sunlight, a faint trace of lavender & chocolate mint, and the comfort of cloth folded by hand. It’s clean and soft—familiar, yet fleeting—like the scent of summer caught in a passing wind.

Explore Summer Sheets --> (Folded, Scented, Ready.)
Lavender, Twine, and Scissors Illustration

The Summer Stillroom Bundle

A quiet pairing for the warmest days of the year—our Summer Sheets talc-free dusting powder and handcrafted washroom soap, bundled together for simple summer rituals.

Scented with soft notes of sun-dried cotton, lavender, and breeze through the garden, this duo is perfect for after-bath care, travel, or gifting with intention.

Each set is wrapped in tissue and tied with twine, just as it would be in an old dry goods shop—useful, beautiful, and meant to be used.

view the bundle
mini bee and honeycomb taper candle sitting on a vintage book while a cute mink sits watching in the background.

Stillroom Summer – A Simple To-Do List

Stillroom Summer

A list for slow days and soft rituals.

  • Fold linens fresh from the line
  • Dust drawers with lavender powder
  • Brew mint or lemon balm before noon
  • Label a jar, tie it with twine
  • Open the windows
  • light a beeswax taper
  • Pick strawberries, rinse in cool water
  • Write one letter, tuck in a sachet
  • Press a bloom, keep it for later


And rest when the work is done.

🌸 A Drawer Left Open

a peek inside the stillroom where the hoosier cabinet sits

How to Use This Season’s Scroll

The stillroom scroll is a quiet seasonal practice—sometimes a list, sometimes a poem, always a reminder to move gently.

Read it with tea, pin it to the fridge, or tuck it into a journal. Use it or don’t. Let it be what it is: a pause.

What Summer Teaches


Summer doesn’t rush. It ripens.

It teaches us to move slower, to fold things carefully, to gather what’s ready and leave what’s not.

There’s work to be done, yes—but also rest, bees, and time to sip the tea while it’s still hot.

What’s in the Pot Today

Sometimes it’s lemon balm. Sometimes it’s mint, picked just moments ago.

There’s no recipe, really—just a scoop of something soothing.

We’ve added more single herbs to the shop this season, in case your summer afternoons need a bit of steeped calm.

You’ll find them quietly waiting—like the best things often are—on the tea shelf. Want to find them now?

A Note from the Farm

The summer kitchen was supposed to get a little makeover.

But as these things go, the plans grew—and the dream gently unfolded into something we hadn’t expected: an entirely new home, and with it, a new stillroom.

Come late summer, the apothecary will close briefly as we pack not just parcels, but a life gathered over many seasons.

The shop will remain open, because wandering through it, discovering small comforts and tucked-away treasures, is something we all need.

Just know that orders placed during our move may be delayed by a week or two as we settle in and get the stillroom shelves dusted and ready again.

Thank you for your patience, your kindness, and for walking this season with us.

We can’t wait to share what’s next.

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✤ The Season Carries On

This season, we walk the path the last few times—past the stone wall, through the blooming wild roses, and to the place where the land dips and the breeze always changes.

The summer garden is planted, the lavender spikes are just forming, and the clothesline hums with linens again.

But soon, we’ll hand these fields to someone new.

The apothecary is moving—not far, but far enough to feel like a new chapter.

And as we pack our baskets and bundles, there’s comfort in knowing the land will carry on its stories… perhaps even to someone who once belonged to it.

We’ve heard whispers that the new stewards have deep roots here—that this ground may be returning to old hands.

In the meantime, our own shelves are slowly filling again—sachets stitched, dusting powders bottled, teas measured by hand.

The work continues. And the story—always—finds its way forward.