I've always loved the change of seasons. There is a potency that surrounds the shift from what you've become accustomed to, to something both new and familiar. It is refreshing and nostalgic, leading your senses to re-encounter your environment.
Things smell a little different when the air is colder. Where warmth can help scent bloom around you, the cool has a way of flattening and directing smells- for example where the pine tree might be surrounded in a cloud of fragrance in summer, in winter you must walk beneath it's branches to suddenly catch a line of scent, which then passes in moments.
I love the low light catching dew droplets on the late roses, on the spiderwebs between the lavender sprigs, and snagging in heavy branches. I love the contrast of sparkling stillness after a week of lightning, wind and rain, and the space this allows to take in the changes.
Winter is a wonderful time to retreat - to cosy in my creative space and work on what it is I hope to blossom in the Spring. I have so many ideas, so many experiments underway.
However, I'm currently recovering from the corona virus, which is serving that familiar old lesson of patience. I must wait until my senses are back and fully online (right now I'm not able to smell very well!), and my energy levels are higher.
Why is this so hard for us modern people?
To take time to recover from illness without feeling guilty that we are not working or making progress? It's a strong reminder why I started this little business in the first place - so that I could work slowly, consciously and harmoniously with life, and all that is unexpected.
So for now I'll wait, gently allowing my body to heal, resting in the ebb before the flow. And when I am feeling better, I can get back to my exciting new projects, strange and beautiful scents and botanical distillations. Watch this space!