Morning silence still lies over the lagoon, which is broken only now and then by the call of a water bird.
Many of them are still bobbing around sleepily; they look as if they don't know exactly if they want to start the day or if they are dreaming something else. That's why they paddle sluggishly through the almost standing wet.
For yet a fine gauze spider lies above the water. The towers and houses of the not-so-distant city seem shadowy in this light fog - as if they were floating.
But also the islands are not yet ready to open the curtain of the night completely: they only slowly face the first light of day.
However, this fine golden ray nevertheless begins, stubbornly as for eternities, to assert its claim quietly and successfully.
In this humid silence lies the scent of wood: of humid wood emanating from the small old rowing boat, which is now striving towards its destination in the lagoon with a steady beat.
From there, a green, garden-like island, this wood aroma mixes with that of the stacked wood piles, which lie in the sun near the simple investor to dry.
One day a new boat will be built out of it; built again with one's own hands, one's own knowledge of the power of water.
The more the sun fingers conquer the day, the more intense these two aromas become.
Also now the first soft breeze rises; the sea, beyond the narrow headland that borders the lagoon, greets our rower and the day with wet coolness.
The more the boat approaches the island, the more intense the scent of the green garden becomes: the longed-for coolness of the shady green announces its fragrant charm as a warm welcome.
Surrounded by his very own world of fragrances, green, spicy and still soaked in light moisture, he enters his paradise.
Only a few steps and the heart with the white wooden house is reached: it stands on the clearing, where everything blooms, surrounded by amazingly dense trees.
Spring morning holds a quiet court here: a hint of the last fine aroma of the waxy magnolia blossom floats above everything. It won't be long before they too will have to bow to the power of summer.
But she still weaves her slightly bitter sweetness with that of the enchanting white Madonna lily blossoms.
Their heavy, often intoxicating magic of the night is already somewhat weakened. Their crowns are already a little crooked, they seem tired.
This early hour does not call for opulence: the day is still young, it still feels its way easily towards what should and will become.
With "Un Jardin sur la Lagune", Hermès leaves it up to you to decide in which island world you want to find your own fragrant paradise.
The scents are so neutral: this garden could be almost anywhere.
It is worthwhile to follow this cleverly placed trail: it will not be a very long journey; the durability of this fragrance is not very pronounced.
Also, he certainly lacks the sophistication or elegance that is automatically expected from this brand.
Perhaps too much is simply expected, with each new composition the familiar, the classical is immediately called upon and thus the boy is immediately confronted with a mirror in which he cannot recognize himself at all.
"Un Jardin sur la Lagune" is too light, too much "water, island and garden" to stick long.
And yet on warm days, like this one and those that will follow, this spider's scent is a very pleasant companion.
The woody spice with the light sea breeze that caresses the skin, the green and the flowers of the garden give a feeling of cleanliness and lightness.
An extremely likeable island of fragrance is created here.