Spices in Burlap

Spent the better part of the day yesterday powdering resins and herbs and woods to start making incense again. There is a wet batch of something semi-bioregional in the refrigerator right now that is slated for rolling tomorrow before it decides to mold. It doesn't have a name yet, but I'd like to call it after something local-ish, like Tamarack Ridge or Coarsegrass Meadow without it sounding completely contrived. While poking around the bench yesterday, I rediscovered a little bottle of exotic florals' accord and it's changed so much from its original profile, I'm at a little bit of a loss as to how to flesh it out. I will have to think about it a while longer. Oh, but the joy of getting back to the grind, literally, was the magic necessary to shake off the months' long funk, the zombification, the hibernation, the depression, dare I say? I credit that wee bag of pinyon pine for this new energy. And the sun. While still pretty cold by California standards, we've been enjoying clear, blue skies and bright winter sunshine for days now. Even though I'm not out in it enjoying its bite, I can still feel it burrowing in, lighting up the house as it streams in rivers of dustmotes and warmth from the skylights. 

I powdered the last of my mountain misery yesterday and realized that I had not been out to harvest mountain misery in more than a year. This is something I do every year, or so I thought, but I missed it last year. In fact, I missed it the year before too because of the Creek Fire. Fires, that's why I haven't been up in two seasons to harvest. And this year, if it rains any more, I will head up to gather oakmoss in March or April to restock the shelves. Missed that one last year too. Pandemic, fires, drought -- this sh*t's getting to me in a big way. It can sometimes be difficult to find joy when Mother is angry and doesn't want to give up the goods. 

This makes me think of sustainability differently. When the scarcity or the general environment creates excessive hardships, you gotta start thinking about how to make things better. This is why I will never become a big business. I can't justify sourcing huge amounts of raw materials to satisfy myself or a hungry clientele. It feels predatory. As much as I would love to own a shop that looks like a Moroccan bazaar with overflowing burlap bags and big copper bowls of raw materials and incense smoke filling the air, I also see the waste in it.