In 1995, I started to make candles in my tiny duplex kitchen. At first I had no clue how, and my original versions weren’t terribly successful. Several years as a waitress and bike messenger had burned me out on the service industry. I didn’t have a degree, or any marketable skills. What I did have was a lifelong love of craft, insane amounts of optimism, and what is commonly referred to as “grit”.
After I got the basics of candle making down, I was faced with a new conundrum: pouring wax into the same jars over and over again was boring. As always I found inspiration in music, and the antique bits and bobs I obsessively collected. But my garden was the best creative guide. Tender shoots pushed, and buds bloomed, with no two flowers ever alike. At the end of each cycle, the soil itself would repurpose dried remnants of seed, leaves and flower heads. What if I were to commit these garden treasures to fragrant wax, instead? I found my answer in the Rosy Rings botanical.
