About

Our story takes root in Knoxville, where my partner grew up tracing the slow arc of October dusk along Cherokee Boulevard and waking to the hush of early light on Market Square. These hours linger, as bonfire smoke will on a wool sweater, subtle but persistent.

I come from a small Oklahoma town, the sort of place where calloused hands mend what breaks and nothing leaves the kitchen without a story. We set out to shape something here that bears the thumbprint of both home and memory.

Our candles rise from these origins—drawn from backyards thick with tomato vines in August, dogwood petals scattered across rain-dark soil, the hush before daylight turns sharp in early autumn. We work with apricot and coconut wax, attentive to the particular way scent drifts through a hallway or settles in the quiet corners of a room, aiming to conjure not just fragrance but the memory it unlocks.

Some scents pay quiet homage to Knoxville—a whiff of riverbank after rain, the warm hush beneath magnolia branches—while others unspool personal histories meant to be rediscovered with a struck match. These candles are meant to settle into your days, offering not novelty but the slow, genuine comfort of something remembered.