The Demise of Frankincense (St Patricks Avenue Part 2 - see part 1 below)

It is just an ordinary Sunday morning for Cassie.

She never really looks forward to her stoic visits to her father, but it's the only day she is permitted to see the old man at all and so she has learned to make the most of it. Her father is able-bodied enough but he employs a home help who comes in three times a week to do his shopping, washing and cleaning.

Frank is well equipped to light the fire himself every evening and cook simple meals.

Cassie lies in bed for a few minutes before getting up to do her yoga stretches. Then she washes at her washbasin and puts on her yellow woolen dress. The material is scratchy against her bare arms but on this cold February morning she is glad of its warmth.

She sits down at her small table and looks out at the tops of the trees as she eats her breakfast. A bowl of museli pre-soaked in almond milk topped with some freshly sliced banana and drizzled with organic honey. She chews every mouthful well as she calmly contemplates her surroundings.

There is a gentle hush in the air. It's unusual enough that the birds are not chirping away outside but even more unusual is the tiny robin that alights on the window ledge and presses his soft brown head against the glass. Cassie goes to open the window and the robin flies away and lands on the nearest branch, his head cocks to one side and then the other as if he is searching Cassie's face for some sort of explanation. Cassie laughs and leaves the window a little open as she goes to check the time.

At 3 minutes to 12.00 Cassie leaves her upstairs sanctuary. By 1 minute to 12.00 she is standing on her Fathers doorstep waiting to ring the doorbell. Her queue is sound of the bells of St Patrick’s church.

It's always the same. She could count her heartbeats until she hears the creaking of the door of the front room opening and the sound of Frank’s slippers shuffling along the tiles of the hall.

Something is wrong. After one heartbeat too many Cassie knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that something is gravely amiss.

She goes to the front window and her heart is in her mouth. She presses her face up to the glass to see if she can make out anything through the thick lace curtain. She can see shadows. She can see the large form of her father sitting in his chair by the fireplace. His head is slumped to one side.

Cassie reacts and bangs on the window loudly with her knuckles. The hairs are standing up on the back of her neck. She presses her face closer to see if there is any movement. There is none.

She looks up and down the avenue. The last few mass goers are trailing behind late for 12 o’ clock service. In shock Cassie runs to the end of the avenue through the silver church gates and into the churchyard. She hurries over to the open doors of the chapel and as she approaches she can hear the choir singing “Hosanna In Excelsis ".

Mass is over. Cassie is in a daze. She walks to the altar and enters the sacristy at the side. Father Ladanum is disrobing and has his back turned. "Father" Cassie calls him softly. "Excuse me?"

Father Labdanum turns and looks at her. His dark eyes are deep and warm and Cassie feels her knees going weak. The priest rushes forward to take her arm and leads her to the nearby chair. He sees how pale and shaken she is. He bends down on his haunches and looks into her face. He strokes her hair back and tilts his head to one side as if to listen. She can see his black priest’s shirt and collar underneath the white robe that is partially open at the front. She can smell the anointing oils mingled with the musky smell of his skin.

"It's my Father." Cassie says quietly "I think something is wrong with him."

"You're Cassie Light aren't you?" the priest asks.

Cassie nods her head.

"Where is your Father?" he asks her.

"He didn't come to the door”, she answers as if in a trance, “my Sunday visit, he didn't come to the door, he always does. I can see in through the window and I can see he is there in his chair. He's not moving. His head is crooked, oh my god, my father, I have to get back to him"

Cassie rambles, her words are tumbling out of her mouth and fear grips her heart as she suddenly feels she has to go back.

She gets up to leave.

'I'll come with you" Father Labdanum says.

"Have you a key for the house?"

A light went on in Cassie's head and she feels stupid for not remembering sooner. There is a key to the front door in her mother's china trinket box on the bookcase beside her bed.

Father Labdanum waits by the front door while Cassie gets the key. His presence is strong and comforting as Cassie opens the door and enters the house.

Frankincense is dead. They find him as they expected to, sitting in his chair in front of the fireplace. His feet are positioned perfectly. Cassie goes to straighten his head and finds that she cannot.  He is stone cold.

Frankincense is cremated. His ashes are sprinkled in Galway bay. The funeral is small. Cassie meets some old relatives who are very sorry for her loss. They go back to the house after the service and drink tea in the front room. Father Labdanum is there too. When everybody is gone he asks Cassie if she is all right and then he leaves too. Cassie stares at her father’s chair. She closes her eyes and the air smells as if he is still here. The silence tells her nothing has changed. She sits in her chair by the window. She cries and nobody hears.

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To be continued soon: Find out about Cassie’s past, her mother, the secret behind her Fathers strange behavior and Cassie and Father Labdanum get closer.

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Labdanum from Cistus landaniferus: Labdanum comes from the natural exudation of the plant Cistus landaniferus which is a small shrub growing wild in countries of the Mediterranean and the middle east. It grows well near the sea. The Labdanum gum or resinous material is further extracted by solvents to form an absolute. The absolute is commonly used in as a fixative in perfumes of the amber classification. Stefan Arctander says of Labdanum Resin Absolute on P 333 of Perfume and Flavor Materials of Natural Origin: “The odor of labdanum is sweet, herbaceous-balsamic, somewhat ambra-like and slightly animalic, rich and tenacious.”

Nutmeg- The firey redhead

Notes: hot, spicy, delicious, camphorous, woody, deep, mellow,

Nutmeg was only four years old the first time I ever saw her. She was holding her mothers hand in the supermarket and throwing a huge strop. Her head was thrown back with her bright red pig tails shaking. Her mouth was wide open as she projected her wail all around her. "She has some set of pipes on her" my mother said to Nutmegs mother. Nutmegs face was bright red and almost matched her hair. She was pulling her mothers hand and arm downwards as she sunk her center of gravity onto the floor, requiring her mother to literally drag her along. Nutmeg wailed louder as her mother pulled her through the checkout and while her hand was freed for a moment she threw herself down on the floor and rolled around in a fit.

I found it highly amusing and I grinned and stood on my tip toes so that I could see over the counter to where Nutmeg was flailing wildly.

I remembered her when I saw her the next time which was about a year later at my first day at school. She had started too and was in my class. She was incredibly pretty I noticed even though I was only 5 and a half. Her hair was braided into two plaits that were like polished red gold. Her eyes were a burnt umber with curious wiggles and squiggles of a lighter brown. She had a few small freckles on her nose and a precious gap between her front teeth. 

I wanted to sit beside her. There was something about her. Something that said to me in my childs mind that nothing could possibly go wrong when she is near me.

Nutmeg absolute goes well with sandalwood, vetivert, clary sage, oakmoss, lavender absolute, tonka absolute, labdanum, bergamot, patchouli, geranium, jasmine and rose.

Champa

The Champa I am evaluating is from Aftelier. I believe it is also called Michelia champaca

12:30 - Sweet, floral, indolic, warm, heavy, fatty, caramel and spicy undertones.

12:34 - Hasn't changed, Reminds me of hyacinth or wild bluebells, sweet heavy floral, very slightly spicy, conjures up a deep yellow colour.

12:40 - No real change, the oily fatty note has lifted and the spicy note is more to the front. Very like hyacinth but with a unique exotic quality. Sweet spicy heavy indolic floral.

12:50 - Deep creamy and rich, a heavy floral, with spice undertones, really hasn't changed much at all.

13:31 - Still hasn't changed much, is a little lighter and creamier.

I imagine amazing things would happen with sandalwood, cinnamon, or nutmeg

Michelia Champaca

Michelia. She doesn't think her name suits her.

Since childhood she wished she was named Constanza after the wife of Wolfgang Mozart. Michelia was born into a working class family. Her parents often wondered if she was even related to them at all. She loved refinement in all things and now that she is an adult she is still the same. She adopted a rather posh accent when she was growing up that nobody could ever really place. She tells people that she speaks the 'Queen's English'. She likes to wear tweeds, ruffled collars and Italian shoes. The way she walks, it looks as though she attended deportment classes. Her parents always embarrassed her. From the age of ten she used to tell people that she was adopted.
Michelia is tall for a woman, her shoulders broad and her feet large. She often wishes that she had a small dainty figure, but she makes the most of what she has. She is always impeccably dressed from top to toe. To work she wears two piece woolens in demure colours with sensible shoes and rolls her long brown hair into a gentle knot at the nape of her neck.

Michelia is a passionate woman deep down but no man has ever known that side of her. She fantisizes about being swept off her feet by a Graduate of Oxford University.
The one thing about Michelia is that she is always the same. Some folks call her passive aggressive. Really she is a gentle, pleasant modest young woman with a lot of hidden fire that may never be discovered. She comes across as heavy and a little serious and for that reason she doesn't have a whole lot of friends.

Michelia has had wonderful musical talent, since childhood, and her parents wondered where that came from too because neither of them had the slightest interest. She wrote her own songs and the tunes she plays are often sad and lonely. She also loves to paint, especially with oils and it is on her canvases that her wildness displays itself. The colours she loves most are ambers, bronzes, coppers, deep yellows, dark reds and golds.

She plays classical music and in her tiny studio at her home and frees herself from cares to express her inner most passions with paint.

Opoponax - the boy

Smelling opoponax tonight.


First the evaluation ~ then the personality.
Here are some words that come to mind: light, resinous, sweet, anise or liquorice, many layers. It sort of makes my tongue tingle when I smell it. As it dries out it becomes softer and sweeter with a syrupy balsamic glow.

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It's like smelling my childhood. Like taking deep breaths of sweet memory.

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What a boy. I remember Opoponax.
He was the boy with the sallow skin who was tall for his age. He was confident and self assured without seeming big-headed. We never spoke to each other but I would hear him talking with his friends.

His voice was sweet and soft and he was able to make people laugh. He was the peacemaker, the boy who would validate and then help to make light of a heavy situation.

In school he carried in his pocket a small brown paper bag of 'bulls eyes' and he would share them with anybody who looked a bit down. He was larger than life and he commanded respect wherever he went. In his teens he became fond of the taste of fine liqueurs and cigars. One time, I heard, he saved for a year so that he could afford a full box of Monte Christo cigars.
He drove a white MG convertible in his final year at college, and would fly past, like a cliché with the wind in his long dark hair.
He was a 'dream boat'....

Note: after I wrote this I checked in my copy of Perfume and Flavor Materials of Natural Origin by Steffen Arctander. .. I always check it after and evaluation to test my olfactory skills.
He says of opoponax oil: "The oil is occasionally used used in liqueur flavors for for its heavy-sweet body and wine-like notes, spiciness and naturalness." P.472

What do I think of your "friends"...

Have you an essence you want me to personify-Just leave a comment with an essences name below and I will do the rest.

Mimosa the sylph

Mimosa is a sylph, she guards the winds and the earth. She dances and makes a storm, she sings and makes the sky blue. Her mind is clear and her heart is open. She creates dreams and eases nightmares. Mimosa is a muse in herself. When she is near new ideas flow easily. She is very shy and she likes dark forests and mysterious undergrowth.
Mimosa might act like a delicate flower but she is stubborn and when she sets her mind to something there's not much going to stand in her way. She's never in the same place for long so it's easy to miss her. Look out for the golden shimmer of yellow in the corner of your eye, that's her, Mimosa.

Holy Neroli

She says a prayer in the morning before getting out of bed and says grace before breakfast, lunch and dinner. Then she gives thanks and rejoices at the end of every day. Sister Neroli, only wants to please God. She's bright, cheerful and squeaky clean. She follows a strict no-toxin diet and it shows in her skin. At the age of 12 she decided to live a chaste life, admiring the way the sisters at her convent school were able to live their lives without needing to follow fashion trends or get attention from men. Since joining the Poor Clare's cloistered convent she has not seen her family or friends, except once during her Fathers funeral.

The sisters in the convent are self sufficient. They grow organic vegetables and keep chickens and goats in their large walled garden. Neroli, like the other sisters sleep in a tiny room which is furnished sparsely with a bed, a chest of drawers, a wardrobe and a kneeling prayer bench. There are no mirrors anywhere in the convent and Neroli hasn't seen her reflection clearly in over 10 years. She loves sewing and tending the flowers in the garden and arranges the flowers for the small chapel in the convent. Neroli has never in her life kissed a boy and never missed it, at times she yearns to have children especially when she's in the garden and hears the squeals and laughter of school children as they walk home from school. Instead of pining however Neroli looks up to heaven and says a prayer of thanks for all the beauty God gifted to the Earth.

Neroli

Neroli is the essential oil distilled from the flowers of the orange blossom tree. Orange blossom absolute is the extraction from the same flowers...read more

© 2008 - Natures Nexus

The Three Angels of Lavender

This story was inspired by three lavender concretes I received from Marcia Elston of Samara Botane.

There was once a heavenly white angel of Lavender. He wore robes as pure and as white as the driven snow. He was a giant of an angel, with arms that could encircle the whole of the Earth in a single embrace. His breath was the sweetest breath in heaven and when he spoke a soft sweet breeze would float through the meadows and towns and past the homes of the people of Lavender and everyone who breathed it would stand still in wonder with eyes closed. Their hearts would open and wherever they stood and wherever they were the truth would come out of their mouths and they would not be able to contain it. So powerful was the white angel of Lavender.

Underneath the flowing silk robes of the white angel there was hiding the small delicate violet angel of Lavender. He was hiding because he was so innocent and vulnerable that even the lightest negative vibration would cause him to weep uncontrollably. When the violet angel saw saddness or suffering he would grieve and tears would stream from his eyes and form rivers and floods. The tears would saturate the cloaks of the other angels and make their clothing heavy.
He had skin that was so soft that to the touch it felt as if it was not even there at all.

Every evening as the sun set the blue angel of Lavender would begin to sing. Her voice rang out and was heard all around the world. The birds in the trees and the beasts on the land would stop and listen. Her voice made tears sprout from the eyes of everyone who heard it and lumps come to their throats and they couldn't understand why. Gradually night would fall and the sky would turn to darkness. The stars in the heavens would hear the voice of the blue angel of Lavender and come closer to hear. The moon would rise over the mountain tops to get closer to her voice. The night that was once dark would suddenly be a twinkle of lights and all through the hours the blue angel of Lavender would hum her songs, lulling the world and all her children to sleep.

The three angels stay nearby always the white, violet and blue angels of Lavender.

Amen.

Audition 2 - Hyacinth

She is always late. Hyacinth is a distraction in herself and is also distracted by the smallest thing. Like a child, focusing on a serious issue is not something she is good at. Flitting from task to task, she is a butterfly woman. Say to Hyacinth "would you hold on a moment ma'am and I will see if we have that in your size" and then come back 2 minutes later to find her *gone*. Giddy beyond belief, at school she was constantly being told to sit still, which was an impossible task for the girl then and still is now.

Hyacinth always seems to be in a good mood, smiling and cheerful all the time. She wants to be your VERY best friend after only knowing you for 5 minutes and "best friends" comes with all the perks, like hand holding or arm linking, hugs for good bye and hugs for hello and hugs just for hugging sake. She's the type of girl that gives you a present on her birthday. When she calls to visit she never comes empty handed, on the contrary, she is certain to bring a large bunch of flowers, a cake and a book she thinks you will "just adore". The book needless to say is a romantic paperback novel with a pink or purple cover and a title something like "What Friends Are For". Never go near Hyacinth when you are feeling down in the dumps, she will drive you to tears with her constant "cheering up" tactics.

One thing is for sure you just have to love her, but she will drive your boyfriend crazy if you EVER bring her back to your place. Hyacinth just cannot talk to a man without giggling, it starts off as an endearing and attractive quality and to tell you the truth most men take it as a message that she fancies them. But after about 15 minutes of being in her company men start making their excuses to leave. Just remember, "My cat is sick and I have to go home and heat her hot water bottle", is not a good excuse to give Hyacinth when you want to get away from her because chances are she'll have her jacket on and be ready to go with you offering to perform 3rd degree reiki on your sick cat. Don't worry, you can tell it like it is to this woman, she is thick skinned and even if you say something like "Hyacinth I find your company a little hard to take today, I have to go", the next time you meet her she'll give you her best smile and her best hug and still be your VERY best friend.
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