
It began high in the misty mountains, where towering evergreens pierced the clouds and the air always seemed a little lighter. These trees stood like guardians of the land, their scent riding the breeze long before footsteps touched the trail. Long ago, Indigenous communities in the Pacific Northwest made good use of them. The twigs were added to steam baths. The sap was applied with care. The needles were brewed into tea. And though no one wrote it down at the time, the knowledge passed from hand to hand, heart to heart. They didn’t need proof. They just knew.
Early settlers learned from what they saw and felt. After chopping wood or hunting game, they noticed how the forest seemed to restore something in them. A fresh bundle of needles in the cabin could clear the air. The resin, rubbed into sore muscles, seemed to ease tension. In winter, a hot drink steeped from green needles wasn’t just comforting—it felt necessary. People came to trust the tree, even before they knew its name.
Only in more recent times did anyone stop to measure what had always been felt. Scientists began taking a closer look at what made the scent so uplifting and the forest air feel so restorative. They found natural compounds in the oil that gave it a crisp, clean, slightly citrusy aroma. The same compounds showed promise in lab tests for keeping surfaces clean and lifting the mood during a foggy afternoon. But most people didn’t need the data. They’d already been using it for years.
In forested valleys, the practice continues. Harvesters still clip needles and twigs by hand, often in the early morning when the trees are still damp with mountain dew. Timing matters. So does care. A slight change in season or elevation can alter the character of the oil. That’s why those who value it most partner directly with growers who understand the land. One such company, doTERRA, has made it their mission to work with forest stewards—preserving the integrity of the process, supporting communities, and protecting the wild stands that have given so generously.
The tall tree with soft green needles and a bright, woodsy scent has long helped people breathe easier, feel more grounded, and reconnect with the calm of the forest. And that name? It didn’t come from the people who lived under its shade for centuries. It came later, in 1825, when a young Scottish botanist named David Douglas traveled across North America on behalf of the Royal Horticultural Society. Among many plants he documented, this towering conifer stood out—and so the tree was named in his honor. This tree is Douglas Fir. Now you know the rest of the story