🕷️A Bandon Farmers Market Story

Some mornings at the Bandon Farmers Market begin in a hush — the kind of coastal quiet where the gulls argue over nothing and the wind hasn’t made up its mind. I was setting out my table that day, lining up the bottles the way I always do, letting the peppermint and eucalyptus rise into the cool air like a small prayer.

That’s when I saw him.

A man came power‑walking — no, charging — down the aisle between the booths, waving one arm like he was signaling a rescue helicopter. His face was flushed, his eyes wide, and before he even reached me he called out:

“Ma’am! A spider tried to eat me!”

Now, I’ve lived long enough to know that when someone opens with a line like that, you don’t laugh. You just listen. So I stood there, hands folded, waiting for the rest of the story to catch up to him.

He leaned in, breathless, and pointed to a spot on his arm. “It bit me! Or stung me. Or something. I don’t know what it was, but it had too many legs and bad intentions.”

I nodded. “Well, that’ll do it.”

He told me he’d been walking near the dunes when he felt a sharp pinch — and when he looked down, there it was: a spider the size of a quarter, glaring at him like it had a personal vendetta. He swatted it off, but the spot was already starting to itch, and he said he felt like he was “being eaten alive.”

I reached for my peppermint.

Not because peppermint treats anything — that’s not my lane — but because I’ve seen what its crisp, cooling comfort can do for irritated skin when it’s properly diluted. And I’ve watched people relax the moment that mint‑clean clarity hits their senses.

I handed him a little dab of diluted peppermint oil and said, “Try this. It won’t hurt anything, and it might feel good.”

He rubbed it on, still muttering about the spider’s attitude.

And then — just like that — he stopped talking.

His shoulders dropped. His breath slowed. He blinked a few times, surprised.

“Well I’ll be,” he said. “That feels… better.” Then he laughed — a big, relieved, whole‑body laugh — the kind that shakes the fear right out of a person.

He bought a bottle on the spot, tucked it into his pocket like a talisman, and walked away calmer than he’d arrived.

The Next Day

I wasn’t expecting to see him again. But the next morning, there he was — walking, not running this time — with a look of pure astonishment.

He held out his arm.

“I don’t know what kind of magic you’ve got in that bottle,” he said, “but the itch stopped fast. And look — the redness and swelling are almost gone. I’ve never seen anything work like that.”

I smiled. “I’m glad it brought you comfort.”

He nodded, still studying his arm like it had performed a miracle overnight. “That spider didn’t stand a chance,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m telling everyone about this stuff.”

And off he went again — this time with a story of his own to tell.

Moments like that remind me why I show up. Not just to sell oils, but to offer a little clarity, a little comfort, a little peace — one human encounter at a time.

If you’re curious about the peppermint he used that day, you can find it on my product page under Peppermint — Cooling Clarity .