By now you've wandered through the gardens, rested beneath old trees, followed winding paths, and perhaps even stopped for a quiet cup of tea.
I thought it might be time we finally met.
I'm Kim, the gardener behind Kozy Garden Company.
Although this little garden now stretches far beyond my own backyard, its story began much more simply than you might imagine.
I grew up on a small farm in rural North Carolina, where life moved at a slower pace. My grandfather tended the garden. My grandmother transformed its harvest into home-cooked meals, jars of preserved vegetables, and memories that have stayed with me my entire life.
Some of my favorite moments weren't spent outside at all.
They were spent sitting beside my grandmother in our little family room while she snapped beans, shelled peas, and talked about life. The windows were open, a fan quietly turned in the corner, and time never seemed to be in much of a hurry.
Looking back, I don't think I realized how much those ordinary moments would shape the rest of my life.
Years passed.
Life became busy.
Like so many people, I drifted away from the garden without realizing how much I missed it.
Then, nearly twenty years ago, after learning I had diabetes, a neighbor handed me two tomato plants and suggested I plant them beside my garage.
Two little plants.
That's all it took.
As those tomatoes grew, something inside me began growing again.
Before long, I found myself planting collard greens, beans, herbs, flowers, and vegetables—trying, in my own way, to recreate the feeling of the garden my grandparents had loved so much.
One of my proudest memories was carrying a small bag of collard greens and turnip greens all the way to North Carolina so my grandmother could taste something I had grown with my own hands.
Later, she made the trip to Ohio to spend time walking through my little garden.
Those visits remain some of my most treasured memories.
As the years passed, neighbors began stopping while I worked outside.
Friends came to visit.
Coworkers asked questions.
- "How did you grow that?"
- "Where did you find those plants?"
- "What would you recommend?"
Without realizing it, my little garden had become something people wanted to learn from.
For years they encouraged me to start a YouTube channel.
I resisted.
Eventually, during the quiet days between Christmas and New Year's, I picked up a camera and shared my first video.
I didn't set out to become a YouTuber.
I simply wanted to invite others into the garden.
From the very beginning, I decided I wouldn't only share the successes.
Gardens don't work that way.
Some things flourish.
Some things fail.
Every season teaches something worth learning.
Apparently, people appreciated that honesty.
They often tell me my videos feel calm.
I think that's because the garden has always been a place where I slow down, listen carefully, and keep learning.
Then one unexpected afternoon changed everything again.
While scrolling through YouTube, a soap-making video appeared.
I had never searched for soap.
Never made it.
Never even considered it.
Yet I watched the entire video, completely captivated.
It wasn't just the soap that fascinated me.
It was the process.
Watching simple botanical ingredients become something beautiful and useful felt remarkably familiar.
I immediately bought my first book on cold process soap making and read it while traveling for work.
Before long, I was completely immersed in learning.
The more I understood, the more I realized something important.
The garden had been helping care for the inside of my life for years.
Now I wanted to create something that cared for the outside as well.
Soap became body butter.
Body butter became lip balm.
Herbs became tea.
One quiet idea naturally led to another.
Not because I was trying to build a business.
Because I was following the same curiosity that began with those two tomato plants.
Kozy Garden Company was born from a simple belief.
The things we use every day should be made with care.
Nature offers remarkable gifts.
Quality matters.
Taking our time matters.
Sharing what we've learned matters.
And sometimes the smallest daily rituals—a warm cup of tea, washing your hands, caring for your skin before bed, or simply stepping into the garden—can become meaningful moments of peace if we allow them to.
Those quiet moments have always mattered to me.
I hope they become part of your life, too.
My grandmother taught me something without ever sitting me down to teach it.
She found joy in feeding people.
She valued quality over appearances.
She believed ordinary moments shared with people you love were never ordinary at all.
I hope, in my own way, I'm carrying a little of that forward.
Thank you for wandering through the garden.
Whether you're here to learn, to explore, or to bring a little piece of the garden home, I'm truly glad you stopped by.
There's always another season beginning here.
And you're always welcome to return.
—
With gratitude,
Kim
The Gardener
