A Legacy of Healing: How My Parents’ Wisdom Shaped Garden Earthly Delites
From Wild Herbs to Handmade Remedies
I was born into a life of learning—one where survival, healing, and self-sufficiency weren’t just skills; they were a way of life. My father and mother raised me to understand that everything we need to heal, to nourish, and to sustain ourselves has already been provided by God’s hand. They taught me not just how to recognize the gifts of the earth, but how to use them—how to turn wild herbs into medicine, how to transform natural resources into the things we need, and most importantly, how to live in complete harmony with the land.
I was very young when my father first took me out to gather herbs. He’d point to what others would call weeds, but to us, they were medicine. Yarrow, he taught me, could break a fever faster than anything. St. John’s Wort for wounds. Comfrey for healing. He didn’t just show me what they were—he showed me how to harvest them, how to process them, how to use them. Those lessons shaped me in ways I couldn’t have imagined at the time.
But it wasn’t just herbs. My father also taught me how to hunt, fish, trap, tan hides, and use every part of an animal so that nothing was wasted. He showed me how to build fires the right way, how to track animals, and how to respect what the land provided.
My mother was the one who taught me how to render tallow, how to make soaps, cheeses, butters, salves, and natural remedies. She showed me how to spin wool, weave, sew, knit, and crochet, how to can, how to store herbs and oils properly so they’d last. She even taught me how to make candles the old way, by dipping them over and over, just like our ancestors did. We made a lot of our own clothes. We made moccasins. If we needed something, we made it ourselves.
It wasn’t just about survival—it was about living fully, in connection with the land, with our hands, and with the wisdom of those who came before us.
We traveled to mountain man rendezvous and historical festivals, like the Festival of the American West in Utah, which always fell on my birthday. It was more than just fun—it was a way of life, a reminder that the old ways still have value, and that we were part of something much bigger than ourselves.
Passing It Down: A Mother’s Gift to Her Children
When I became a mother, I knew I wanted to raise my children the same way.
We lived in Northern Idaho at the time, and I would take my children out in their stroller during the day, showing them the same plants my father had once shown me—wormwood, St. John’s Wort, yarrow, comfrey, dandelion, marshmallow, stinging nettle, cattails. They learned not just to recognize them, but to respect them. We would “stake out” where the herbs were growing wild, and when night came, I made it into a game. They would put on dark clothes, grab their little pillowcases, and we’d head out to harvest what we needed under the moonlight. Then, I’d teach them how to dry the herbs, how to store them, and how to use them in remedies.
Even now, as adults, that knowledge has stayed with them. My youngest son, Tristin, recently sat at the end of my bed, carefully going through my oils and herbs, choosing what he needed to make me a remedy when I was sick. He knew exactly what to do because I had taught him, just as my father once taught me. My other son, who still lives in Idaho, calls me often when his own family is sick—“Mom, what do I use for this? Do you have this herb? Which oil should I use?” The knowledge may not come as instinctively to them as it does to me, but it’s there. It’s been passed down.
Even now, in the peak of flu and cold season, people around me come to me for help. "Corrie, what do you have for this? I need something for that." And I show up with my little bag, just like I always have, offering what they need to heal—because this is who I am.
Garden Earthly Delites: The Legacy Lives On
Everything I make, everything in my store, comes from this.
Nothing in Garden Earthly Delites exists by accident. Every product has a reason—a purpose—because it was born from a real need. Daddy’s Hands was created for my father, whose hands were rough and calloused from working the land. Gardener’s Gloves was made for my mother, who nurtured and crafted with her own two hands. My healing balms, butters, oils, and rubs were all made because someone needed them—whether it was my children, my family, my friends, or myself.
I don’t make products just to sell. I make them because they work, because they heal, because they are the kind of things I trust enough to put in my own body first. I don’t believe in pharmaceuticals—I believe in what God has made. I make my own antibiotics. I create my own medicines. When I had cancer in 2020, I didn’t go through chemo. I used my oils, my knowledge, my trust in the healing power of nature—and today, I’m still cancer-free.
This isn’t just a business to me. It’s a calling. It’s a way of life. It’s the legacy of my parents, the teachings I’ve passed to my children, and the deep belief that everything we need to heal has already been given to us.
When you buy from Garden Earthly Delites, you’re not just purchasing a product. You’re holding a piece of history, of wisdom, of generations who lived and breathed this way of life. Every bottle, every balm, every salve—it all carries the knowledge my father taught me, the skills my mother passed down, and the love I’ve poured into every single thing I create.
This is who I am. This is why I do what I do. And this is why Garden Earthly Delites exists.
A Store with a Story
So when you hold one of my products in your hands, know that it’s not just a bottle of oil or a jar of cream. It’s the result of a lifetime of learning, of generations of wisdom, of deep care and intention. It’s made with the same herbs my father showed me, processed with the same skills my mother taught me, and passed forward with the same love I gave to my own children.
And now, I share it with you.
Because healing isn’t just something I do. It’s something I live.
And it always has been.
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