Or in this case – The Oak Woman
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: ’Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness,— That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
Well that’s pretty intense, Mr. Keats. But on this full moon I do have a touch of sadness. The closing of summer sadness. And the oak brings such comfort… Just creeping around in them, meditating with my back resting on the tree. Walking in a mature oak forest.
The oak woman/man welcomes authenticity and power. Something I have been much seeking lately. But with ease…
This week I have been busy in the perfumery creating a green inspired perfume. A classic all-natural Fougere, with a warm, earthy base. An herbaceous blend on a bed of oak moss and benzoin. The top note, bright and crisp. It’s aging now. I hope to be able to share it soon.