Fleur on The Farm – A Little More Than Soap
The story behind the name, the products, and the woman who makes them.
I've been asked a few times how Fleur on The Farm began, and I usually give the short version.
I've been making bath and body products for years, I spent 25 years as a hairdresser, I'm a Certified Skin Care Coach, and I love creating things.
All true.
But it's not really the whole story.
The truth is, I don't even know when I started making bath and body products. Every time someone asks, I'm pretty sure I give them a different answer! I was experimenting with natural ingredients when I was a kid, long before "natural" became the popular word it is today.
And I've worn so many different hats over the years that sometimes I have to stop and think about everything I've actually done.
So grab a coffee. This might take a minute.
Let's start at the beginning.
I went to 23 different schools growing up.
Yes, 23.
That's a whole lot of being the new girl.
Every school had different people, different rules, different clothes you were supposed to wear to be cool, and different ways to fit in.
And when you don't have much money, fitting in can be pretty tricky.
I became very good at something, though.
Being unseen.
I learned how to read a room, how to blend in, how to figure out what people wanted me to be and how to become that person.
I didn't realize it at the time, but I was learning to survive rather than learning how to just be myself.
My biological father left the day after my third birthday, the day before Christmas.
I was only three. I didn't understand what was happening, but I certainly understood the feeling in that room.
Maybe that's why Christmas has always been a complicated season for me. I do celebrate Christmas for its true meaning, but the season itself carries memories that aren't always joyful.
There were many difficult things that followed.
Bullying, instability, physical and sexual assault.
It took me an incredibly long time to be able to say those last words out loud.
Not because I wanted sympathy. Actually, sympathy is something I've never been particularly fond of.
But because I carried embarrassment and shame that never should have belonged to me.
There was also a time in my childhood when we didn't have a home.
We lived in a campground, and the funny thing is, I didn't really know we were homeless.
My mom had this incredible ability to make something beautiful out of practically nothing.
She scraped together what money she could to buy me little crafts. She taught me about picking berries, and we decorated our campsite with flowers, twigs and whatever nature had to offer.
She could turn almost nothing into something lovely.
Looking back, I realize how much she taught me without either of us knowing it.
Maybe that's where my love for rustic things, gardening, nature and creating something out of nothing really began.
And animals? They've always been my place of comfort.
Even as a kid, when the world felt confusing, animals somehow made sense to me.
They still do.
Then came adulthood. Or something resembling it.
I got married very young and was pregnant at 19, right out of high school.
I wanted what so many young people want.
A family, a home, happiness and that lovely picture in your head of how life is supposed to look.
Well, we were young, and after our second child, I think it's fair to say we were a little over our heads.
Actually, we were probably completely over our heads.
I've since come to the conclusion that most parents are just winging it and hoping for the best. I'm still waiting for someone to hand out the instruction manual.
Eventually, I became a single mom.
And when you're a single mom, you do what you have to do.
I worked. A lot.
Sometimes three jobs in one day.
Hairdressing was always there. I also took whatever other work was necessary to pay the bills.
At one point, I was working part-time in a small-town bar, sometimes getting home at three in the morning after cashing out.
Someone started a rumour that the new hairdresser in town was spending all her time at the bar partying.
Well, they got the location right!
What they didn't know was that I was working.
There wasn't money for everything people told me my children should have.
Organized sports, brand-name clothes, babysitters and all those things that apparently make you a good parent.
Some days I would leave for the first of three jobs, come home completely exhausted and barely have enough energy left to function.
But there was always time to tickle my kids' arms before bed.
Always.
I carried tremendous guilt about the things I couldn't give them.
And it certainly didn't help when other people had opinions about what I should or shouldn't be doing.
Let me be clear. There's absolutely nothing wrong with organized sports, beautiful clothes or any of those things.
You do you.
But I've learned that we need to be very careful about judging someone else's parenting when we have no idea what they're carrying.
Sometimes just getting through the day, keeping everyone fed and making sure your children know they're loved is a pretty big accomplishment.
The many hats I've worn.
I've been a hairdresser, a business owner, a First Responder and a Drug and Alcohol Counsellor.
Why such different careers?
Well, there's a story behind each one.
I became involved in drug and alcohol counselling because I'd seen what addiction could do to families, friendships and relationships.
I needed to understand.
And once I started learning, I became completely engrossed in the idea that everyone's story matters.
I wanted people to know they were loved, that they deserved to be heard and that they were worth helping.
I loved the work, but after about five years, I was done.
I was carrying everyone's stories home with me.
I wanted to fix everything for everyone.
And I was giving so much of myself away that there was nothing left when I got home.
Being a First Responder was a little different.
I've always wanted to help people, but here's something you might find interesting.
I actually thrived being the first person on the scene.
Put me in the middle of chaos and, for some reason, that's where I could function incredibly well.
It was something I'd wanted to do since I was young.
Years later, I began to understand that some of this may have come from growing up in survival mode.
When your world has been unpredictable for so long, sometimes calm doesn't feel nearly as familiar as chaos.
That was quite the revelation!
I've also owned a health and wellness business, which I eventually sold when we moved to this neck of the woods.
And through all of it, I continued hairdressing on the side until my body eventually said, "No more."
Not politely, either.
The house fire.
Many years ago, my sons and I experienced a house fire.
The cause, as I remember it, had something to do with condensation and an overheated electrical outlet. Honestly, I've blocked out much of that time.
We lost our home and nearly everything in it.
What the fire didn't destroy, the water from the fire hoses finished off.
We also lost one of our pets, and that still hurts.
After the fire had been put out, I remember sitting with my best friend at the local hotel bar.
A young man came over and asked why I would have left a space heater under my child's bed.
Then he told me what a stupid thing that was for a mother to do.
I had just lost my home, my belongings and a pet.
And that was what someone chose to say to me.
I remember that moment so clearly.
We ended up living above the bar where I worked, then in a trailer while our house was rebuilt. I think it was almost a year before we were back home.
Insurance helped, but barely.
There weren't GoFundMe pages or much outside help to fall back on.
I had to figure things out.
I even lost my job because I was told I was acting differently.
Well, I suppose I was.
Something inside me was beginning to change.
For the first time, a little voice was starting to say, "Jennifer, I think we've had enough of this."
And somewhere in the middle of all that loss, I needed to find a way to earn extra money.
So I went back to creating.
I eventually took on a business partner, and let's just say that didn't go quite according to plan.
One day, my partner left in the middle of the night with inventory, and I ended up facing a lawsuit.
It all worked out eventually.
But goodness, life certainly wasn't short on material for my journals!
And here's something interesting.
The more things like this happened to me, the harder I tried to please everyone.
As though being just a little nicer, working a little harder or giving a little more would somehow make everything okay.
It didn't.
When your body finally says enough.
I've experienced burnout twice in my life.
And I'm not talking about needing a weekend off and a good nap.
I'm talking about the kind of exhaustion that changes your entire life.
There were warning signs.
Backaches, headaches, poor sleep, skin problems and eventually rashes that became impossible to ignore.
I went from doctor to doctor, trying to figure out what was happening.
So many appointments, and so many times I heard that nothing was wrong.
I'd call my best friend and say, "Well, I guess it's all in my head."
But something was wrong.
My body was struggling, and I was struggling right along with it.
Eventually, my health forced me to make changes I hadn't been willing to make myself.
Stress still has a way of reminding me when I'm pushing too hard. My joints can start hurting, and I know I need to pay attention.
I had spent so much of my life taking care of everyone and everything else that I had absolutely no idea how to take care of myself.
We used to host elaborate parties.
I loved every little detail. The food, the decorations, the atmosphere, making sure everyone felt included.
But looking back, I can see that I was often so busy making sure everyone else had a wonderful time that I forgot I was supposed to enjoy myself, too.
I had to learn how to step back.
And that was not easy.
Learning that I mattered, too.
After the house fire, I was blessed with an incredible psychologist and an equally incredible best friend.
Both were there for me without the financial burden of appointments, and both worked in a women's health centre.
I'll never forget sitting in my psychologist's office telling her about things happening in my life.
I remember her expression as I talked.
And then she explained something that completely changed the way I saw myself.
I had every right to feel angry.
Every right to be hurt.
Every right to have feelings about the things that had happened.
Wait a minute.
I was actually allowed to feel that way?
I didn't have to explain away someone else's behaviour?
I didn't have to make everything okay?
That was the beginning of a very long journey.
I started reading every book I could get my hands on.
Psychology, trauma, relationships, personal growth, faith. If I thought it might help me understand myself or other people, I wanted to read it.
One day, during that journey, someone asked me a simple question.
"What brings you joy?"
I had absolutely no idea.
Imagine that.
I could tell you what everyone else liked, needed or wanted, but I couldn't tell you what made me happy.
I'd spent so much of my life surviving and trying to be what everyone else needed that somewhere along the way, I'd lost myself.
As I began finding my voice, something else happened.
People started falling away.
I had spent years being the person who didn't speak up, didn't disagree and didn't cause problems.
When I began expressing my own thoughts and feelings, not everyone welcomed the change.
I lost relationships I never imagined I would lose, including nearly all of my family.
I once learned that one of my favourite uncles had passed away through a random Google search.
That hurt more than I can describe.
There were weddings I wasn't invited to and relationships that simply disappeared.
And I won't pretend I handled it all beautifully.
There were some very dark times. Times when the pain almost took my life.
But eventually, there was quiet.
A season when the noise of other people's expectations began to fade.
And in that quiet, something unexpected happened.
I started finding me.
Not the version of me who was constantly trying to keep everyone happy.
Just me.
I'm still working on that, by the way.
A little something about faith.
My faith has been part of this journey, although it hasn't always been a peaceful relationship.
There have been plenty of times I've questioned, argued and wondered why certain things were allowed to happen.
I've held tight to my faith, and I've also had moments when I was downright angry.
I believe I'm loved unconditionally, even on the days when I'm questioning everything.
My beliefs are personal, and I've always been interested in the beliefs of others.
I don't believe we need to agree on everything to care about one another.
In fact, I find it fascinating how differently people experience faith and spirituality.
I celebrate Christmas for its true meaning, even though the season itself carries some difficult memories for me.
And I believe that sometimes, in the middle of the worst storm, a hand appears to help us stand again.
Sometimes it's a person.
Sometimes it's an animal.
Sometimes it's something we can't quite explain.
But I've learned to recognize those moments and be grateful for them.
A full cup. Not an empty one.
Here's something I believe that might surprise a few people.
I believe you come first.
Yes, you.
Not because other people don't matter.
But because you do, too.
For years, I gave everything I had to everyone around me.
And when my cup was empty, I somehow thought I was supposed to keep pouring.
But a cup doesn't just suddenly become empty.
It gets a little lower and a little lower until one day there's nothing left.
And sometimes we don't notice until we're already in trouble.
I believe we need to fill our own cups first.
Then, when they're full and spilling over, that beautiful spillover is what we have to give others.
Not everything we have.
Not the last little drop.
The spillover.
I learned that lesson the hard way.
Twice.
And sometimes I still need reminding!
I've also learned that fairness is something I struggle with.
After growing up in a world that often felt unfair, I developed an enormous need for things to be fair, equal and right.
Especially when I see someone else being mistreated.
But the world isn't always fair, and trying to make everything fair is an exhausting battle.
I'm learning that I can't control everything.
I can, however, control how I choose to treat people.
And that's where I'd rather put my energy.
Finding my way back to creating.
I've always loved making things.
I can remember experimenting with ingredients when I was young, trying old recipes and discovering what worked.
I had sensitive skin. My children had sensitive skin.
So I wanted to make things that were gentle, thoughtfully made and as natural as possible.
I also wanted to use ingredients I could get locally whenever possible.
Partly because I believed in supporting what was around me.
And partly because, well, I couldn't exactly afford to shop around the world for fancy ingredients!
My years as a hairdresser had taught me far more than cutting and colouring hair.
There was chemistry, learning about the skin and scalp, understanding ingredients and how products work.
And, of course, there was the unofficial counselling that seems to come with being a hairdresser.
If you've ever sat in a hairdresser's chair for a couple of hours, you probably know exactly what I mean.
All those experiences were coming together, although I didn't recognize it at the time.
I began creating more products, experimenting with old recipes, researching ingredients and slowly building something of my own.
I've changed things over the years.
Different ideas, different directions, even a few rebrands.
That's part of owning a small business. Sometimes you discover what works by finding out what doesn't.
And eventually, Fleur on The Farm became what it is today.
Why Fleur?
Because that's what my mom called me when I was little.
Fleur is French for flower.
We're Irish, so I'm still not entirely sure how that happened, but here we are!
So what exactly is Fleur on The Farm?
Today, Fleur on The Farm is my little bath and body business on our acreage just north of Yorkton, Saskatchewan.
I make soaps, bath bombs, lotions, body butters, scrubs, oils and other little everyday luxuries.
I love working with ingredients. I love understanding what they do and finding ways to create products that feel wonderful on the skin.
I love making something that someone genuinely enjoys using.
And yes, I love a good fragrance!
I'm also a wife, a mom, a gardener and the caretaker of what sometimes feels like a small animal sanctuary.
Some of our animals originally belonged to our kids, who have since moved on with their own lives.
The animals, however, apparently didn't get the moving-out memo.
And that's perfectly fine with me.
This is my second marriage, and my husband and I are still learning about each other.
Because people change. We grow, learn, make mistakes and hopefully become a little wiser along the way.
He's one of the very few people in my life I've never felt I needed to explain myself to.
And that means more than I can put into words.
Our acreage has become home to much more than my little shop.
It's a place filled with animals, gardens, family, projects and, occasionally, more chaos than either of us probably intended.
But it's ours.
The market I dreamed about as a little girl.
When I was young, I dreamed about a market.
A place where people could gather, where beautiful things could be shared, where there would be life, laughter and connection.
I didn't fully understand why that idea meant so much to me.
I think I do now.
I was a little girl who spent so much time trying to fit in.
Who moved from place to place.
Who learned how to disappear into a room.
And somewhere inside me, I wanted to create a place where nobody had to feel that way.
In the summer of 2026, that little dream finally came to life.
The Clocktower Corner Market.
If you've seen the market video on my Facebook page, you might have noticed how proud I was.
And I really was.
Not because everything was perfect.
But because something I'd carried in my heart for so many years had finally become real.
People came.
Vendors brought their creations.
Families visited, people laughed, conversations happened, and for a few hours, our little corner of the countryside was filled with connection.
That's what I had dreamed of.
And it meant more to me than people probably realized.
Why the Souls Harbour soap matters to me.
One of the things I created through Fleur on The Farm is our Souls Harbour Mission soap.
The profits from that soap are donated to Souls Harbour at Christmas.
There's a very personal reason behind it.
I know what it's like not to have a home.
I know what it's like to be unsure of what comes next.
And I know how much difference one act of kindness can make when someone's world has fallen apart.
Sometimes people don't need a lecture.
They don't need someone telling them everything they've done wrong or what they should have done differently.
Sometimes they just need a hand.
Someone to help them stand up again.
And sometimes that one small act of kindness becomes the beginning of something much bigger.
That's why this little soap means so much to me.
And now, here we are.
If you've made it this far, thank you.
I realize this is a lot more than you probably expected when you started reading about a little bath and body business!
But I wanted to tell you the real story.
Not for sympathy.
Not because I think my story is more difficult or more important than anyone else's.
Quite the opposite.
I'm sharing it because I know I'm not the only person who's experienced some of these things.
Maybe you've worked three jobs to support your family.
Maybe you've experienced burnout.
Maybe you've been judged by people who didn't know the whole story.
Maybe you've lost relationships, struggled with your health or spent years trying to make everyone else happy.
Maybe you're still figuring out what brings you joy.
Or maybe you've had a completely different life from mine.
That's okay, too.
Your story matters just as much as mine.
And that's really what I want Fleur on The Farm to be about.
Yes, I want to sell my products.
Of course I do! I have a business to run, bills to pay and ingredients that certainly aren't getting any cheaper.
But I want it to be more than that.
I want people to feel welcome.
I want people to know they can have an opinion, share a story, laugh, ask a question or simply be themselves.
I want someone who's had an exhausting day to take five minutes with a lovely bath, a favourite lotion or a quiet moment and remember that they deserve a little care, too.
Not because a bath bomb will fix life's problems.
It won't.
Believe me, if I could make one that did, I'd be a millionaire!
But sometimes five minutes is where we begin.
Five minutes to breathe.
Five minutes to do something just because it feels good.
Five minutes that belong entirely to you.
And perhaps tomorrow, you find another five.
One last thing.
I've spent a lifetime learning, unlearning and learning again.
I've filled more journals than I can count.
I've read books that changed the way I look at myself, relationships and the world around me.
I've made mistakes. Plenty of them.
I've blamed people, questioned my faith, tried too hard, worked too much and spent years believing I wasn't important enough to speak up.
I'm not going to tell you I'm completely healed, that I've forgiven everything or that life is suddenly perfect.
That wouldn't be true.
I'm still figuring things out.
But I am learning to enjoy the little things.
To appreciate connection.
To love creating.
To find joy in the things I once overlooked.
And to understand that I don't have to earn my place in this world by making everyone else happy.
Neither do you.
One day, I'll share some of the books that helped me along the way. Maybe something in one of them will speak to you the way it spoke to me.
But for today, there's really only one thing I hope you'll take away from this rather long story.
You matter.
Not because of what you do, what you earn, what you've accomplished or how much you give to other people.
You matter because you're here.
And by taking the time to read this, you've already made a difference in my little world.
So thank you.
And if there's one thing I can encourage you to do today, it's to find five minutes for yourself.
Just five.
Start there.
You deserve to feel joy.
And if you've ever felt like you don't quite fit in, or that the world doesn't have a place for someone like you, I hope you'll remember this little spot in the Saskatchewan countryside.
Because that's part of why I created it.
You belong here.
With love,
Fleur
Fleur on The Farm
Corner of Hwy 9 & Hwy 309
10 minutes north of Yorkton, Saskatchewan
www.fleuronthefarm.ca
