Wrapping Up the Hya
So, later today I'm going to pluck out the remaining hyacinth from the enfleurage plate and make a small extract with it. Wish me luck. I still have bottles of the hyacinth tincture I made a few years back, and I'm planning to dry extract that. I was selling the tincture in 2014, but a few of my customers said the tincture had a slight off putting note, like salty fish, which, let's face it, is pretty weird. I'm hoping that fishy note evaporates with the alcohol so that the pretty hyacinth note is all that's left. My hypothesis about that weird note is that hyacinth blossoms are fat and juicy, so when I plucked them fresh and put them into the alcohol, I didn't allow for any wilting (evaporation of water) and it was the water component that developed the fish note. We'll see, I guess. Another experiment. Each one teaches a new lesson. Mostly, these lessons in perfumery teach me to be more patient.
It's almost time to start hiking again. I know I've sat on my bum too long when a trip upstairs to retrieve the phone charger makes me huff and puff like a steam engine. I'm a hibernator. When it's chilly and damp, I like to huddle under a blanket and write -- or read -- or play whack-a-mole -- or invent stories -- or watch Chopped. This may be part of the reason I got almost nothing done in terms of creating perfumed stuff this past winter. I was hibernating like a bear! Bears don't make perfume. Heck, bears can't even make a decent bar of soap.
My favorite place to pluck those pretty Cecile Brunner roses was struck by a wind storm this past weekend, and some of their fine old trees toppled over. A few old eucalyptus and some coastal pines. It's heartbreaking to see these grand trees -- trees who've stood for decades, some centuries -- just lie down in the mud. This drought has taken its toll on more than just the people and the agriculture. Old forests are dying -- it's just sad. I hope to get over to the Cecile Brunner bush that I normally harvest and see if the wind hasn't blown all the buds off. I'd love to get another distillation out of it, but setting up the kit and making the time to conduct a distillation is becoming more and more difficult. I made a remark this past weekend about how pissed off it makes me that everyone else acts put out because of my business and all the stuff I have, and the response I got was laughing and nodding. I almost went into a tirade about how put out I am when I clean the house top to bottom only to wake in the morning to crap everywhere, dirty dishes, empty toilet paper rolls, and someone else's laundry clogging up the dryer, but, hey, I'm the ray of light around here. Gotta keep sh*t positive while scraping someone's midnight snack off the stove top.
I need that studio!
It's almost time to start hiking again. I know I've sat on my bum too long when a trip upstairs to retrieve the phone charger makes me huff and puff like a steam engine. I'm a hibernator. When it's chilly and damp, I like to huddle under a blanket and write -- or read -- or play whack-a-mole -- or invent stories -- or watch Chopped. This may be part of the reason I got almost nothing done in terms of creating perfumed stuff this past winter. I was hibernating like a bear! Bears don't make perfume. Heck, bears can't even make a decent bar of soap.
My favorite place to pluck those pretty Cecile Brunner roses was struck by a wind storm this past weekend, and some of their fine old trees toppled over. A few old eucalyptus and some coastal pines. It's heartbreaking to see these grand trees -- trees who've stood for decades, some centuries -- just lie down in the mud. This drought has taken its toll on more than just the people and the agriculture. Old forests are dying -- it's just sad. I hope to get over to the Cecile Brunner bush that I normally harvest and see if the wind hasn't blown all the buds off. I'd love to get another distillation out of it, but setting up the kit and making the time to conduct a distillation is becoming more and more difficult. I made a remark this past weekend about how pissed off it makes me that everyone else acts put out because of my business and all the stuff I have, and the response I got was laughing and nodding. I almost went into a tirade about how put out I am when I clean the house top to bottom only to wake in the morning to crap everywhere, dirty dishes, empty toilet paper rolls, and someone else's laundry clogging up the dryer, but, hey, I'm the ray of light around here. Gotta keep sh*t positive while scraping someone's midnight snack off the stove top.
I need that studio!
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