Delightful

In the darkness of resinous mist/
she stood on the slope of green hills/
On her white shirt/
clung bitter earth/
dark as cocoa dust/
A look from green resinous eyes/
made your body shiver/
Bittersweet she sang/
a spicy myrrh melody/
Soft and balsamic like delicate smoke/
each note caressed your skin/
Around you is now/
a fragrance of sweet, sweet earth
*
*
*
Banshee-
[ Celtic mythology;
Woman from the Hills, Spirit from the Otherworld, Woman from the Fairy Realm]
The dark resinous and bittersweet dusty cocoa, along with the spicy balsamic myrrh create a softly lovely smoky aroma.
Milky, resinous poplar bud and herbaceous, palatable sweet patchouli round it out in a delightfully earthy way.
Really very nice, but unfortunately this Spiritwood again remains only about 5 hours with me.
With many thanks to Floyd!

"...Life was feeling good
At that old cabin in the woods..."

It had so much beauty this place, she thought as she entered the old wooden cabin.
The cabin was in the middle of the wild green part of the woods.
She pushed open the old windows to let in the spicy scent of juniper, it mingled cautiously with the fresh green, slightly tart notes of the surrounding ferns and shrubs.
With the breeze now drifting into the cabin through the open windows, the smell of smoke from the old, wood charred fireplace grew stronger.
What a lot of times she had sat in front of it as a child, drawing pictures of the forest in the crackle of the fire.
Now she knelt before the cold black remains of fires past.
The coal-black walls of the fireplace still smelled strongly of smoke.
It brought back memories for her and made her smile.
She continued to walk around the room, the wood warm from the sun. In some places it was oozing resinous sap from the old fibers, almost as if they were tears.
Tears at finding her way home again.
Deeply she sucked in the smell of those wooden walls, it smelled balsamic of dry resinous conifer.
In the small corner of the kitchen she spotted a sticky stain, it was the dried juice of oranges.
She stroked it, slightly bitter yet sweet it stuck to her finger.
How many times had they squeezed fresh orange juice while the morning fire was already warming the room.
She was then always allowed to nibble the remnants of the pulp from the peel.
Her fingers had exactly the same slightly bittersweet scent afterwards as they did now.
Oh what she loved that old, creaky wooden cabin, with all its memories.
She decided to clean the fireplace and afterwards she would build a fire, enjoy the spicy smoke and the crackling of the dry wood, and reminisce in the flickering light of the fire.
Oh yes, she would do that...
*
*
*
Fum is a spicy smoke scent.
The smoke is very present, from the first moment and remains so until the end.
In between, bittersweet oranges peek out, but also dry, slightly resinous coniferous wood.
Also, an association to light green forest notes does not stay away from me, up to spicy juniper, especially at the beginning.
Over time, the smoke becomes more creaky (Chizza named it a "match note" in his review) about the same way I feel it, as if the sulfur is flaming off the igniter head.
It remains spicy and warm and is further accompanied by the woody notes, and the subtle bitter orange note also flashes through every now and then.
Yes, a quite wonderful smoke!

Song "Cabin in the Woods"
Canaan Smith

You feel the balmy green glow of the wooden darkness.
Which settles over you as a needle-etheric shadow.
Spicy smoke from nearby fires
makes thy cheeks glow in sepia.
Over medicinal barks you run and in your veins throbs the forest.
A viscous brew of bark, needles and resin begins to burn within you.
Your eyes catch sight of the clearing.
Like a mist of black tea, the clouds hang tart and lazy against the white moon.
In your mouth is the taste of aromatic wood.
You breathe in deep puffs of smoke-spiced air and run faster through the firs, further into the ethereally dense night. Suddenly a warmth floods you and like balm a force runs through you.
Your feet seem to glide over the wet mossy earth until you leap and your arms become wings.

Then below you is the dark green forest in a light mist of smoke and you are free...
*
*
*
The progression of the fragrance notes given is wonderful to capture. Therianthropy starts with me balsamic green-woody, then comes quickly
dark-spicy smoke to it.
The fragrance becomes ethereal,
Fir-nadelig-holzig with a subtle medicinal note, all further accompanied by the smoke.
Flanked by black tea, the scent then transitions into aromatic, slightly earthy-mossy white oud.
Very fascinating and a really beautiful fragrance!
*
*
With many thanks to Floyd :)

Cily was an oddball old coot,
205 years he already had on the hump,
but he was by no means rusty.
He had a long white beard that he had to wrap twice around his neck to keep from stepping on it, and an old straw hat adorned his wild, gray mop of hair.
This straw hat was downright fused with Cily's wild hair, even various birds used it for nesting now and then.

Today was a beautiful day, Cily was in the garden weeding around by his bees. He had lit a pipe especially for the purpose, benzo warm smoke now puffed from it.
A special mixture which glistened incense-like in the air and laid over everything a
resinous glow over everything.
His bees were soothed by this balmy scent, flying over the wild flowers while Cily tinkered with the beehive.
He squeezed the honey from the waxy combs, rubbing the wax between his knobby fingers and enjoying the delightfully strong aroma that had now formed around him.
The fine smoke from his pipe grew thicker, hovering over Cily like an ethereal cloud by now.

Cily put on an old scuffed leather glove and reached for the queen bee. This one immediately sat on his hand, soothed by the creaky leather smell.
The incense-like scent from his pipe, with a note of clove mingling in between, also caused the queen bee to feel at ease.
Cily spotted something suspicious about the beehive.
He took the pipe out of his mouth and sniffed the worn spot.
Indeed these horny little beavers were using his beehive to mark their territory. Well wait, if he could get his knobby hands on these fellows.
He put the queen bee back and straightened the hive back up reasonably.
Then, with the honey in his jar, puffing his pipe and exhaling such resinous, balmy smoke, he walked back through the wildflower garden toward the cottage.
All the blossoms began to turn toward him, blowing elemibalsamic pollen in Cily's direction.

Once on the porch, Cily took a large sip of homemade monastic liquor.
Delicious stuff, he remarked.
Then he took the pipe from his mouth and noticed that the herbal mixture in it had become birch tar.
This was now dripping spicy bubbling from the pipe and a few drops even hung in Cily's beard.
They glistened a beautiful, balmy cerulean green.
He would have to wash it, but not today, he decided!
For the scent that clung to Cily's beard and clothes was excellent, smoky-spicy mild and herbal-balsamic.

With that scent he would sleep like a root gnome he thought contentedly.
*
*
*
Cilice by Euphorium Brooklyn is truly a cozy resinous-spicy and lovely herbaceous scent.
With a subtle, light smoky note.

A dear thanks to Gschpusi and Schalkerin, for the test possibility :)

I dipped my head in a pond.
The water around me shimmered a spinach green and suddenly it felt like the pond was pulling me into it.
It was like falling through a deep ethereal vortex.
Like threads of kelp, the water wrapped around my arms, iridescent green, and lovely osmanthusiasts ran toward me.
I took my head back and took a deep breath, the cool wet dripping down me.
I looked around, I was now actually in a garden.
It was dark and the fresh moonlight glittered white on all the plants.
Balsamic resins ran from fir trees like medicinal ointments, shimmering emerald green.
Nightshade butterflies flew around brilliant flowers, their leaves rank with herbaceous green, and the blossoms drank the moonlight ethereally.
I was spellbound, could hardly comprehend it, where was I here, was this real? Was I real?
Diffuse white mushrooms peeked out from ruts, suddenly everything began to sparkle clear and bright in a glow of light, soapy foam rose from the lovely earthy darkness.
I watched the foam envelop me kaleidoscopically, then finally wash away into many fresh lotus-flickering flowers.

Awakening, I then held a flower in my hand, Datura Solanaceae - and a balmy green fragrance enveloped me.
And I understood!
*
*
*
Vala's Enchanted Perfumery is a small craft company based in Prague, Czech Republic.
All fragrances are made Vegan
and if they still contain beeswax, beeswax extracts or honey, it will be mentioned in the description.

On her homepage Moi Yggdottir writes about her fragrances:
"Bottles and jars are my canvases and plant essences are my colors and together they help me tell stories in memories and emotions."
Datura - White Lady, is also said to be a tribute to the Datura Solanaceae plant. This plant not only enriched moon gardens with its fragrance, but it is also said to have been used in the late Middle Ages to make what were known as witch's ointments/fly ointments.

I find Datura just really beautiful!
He has no great sillage, but always resonates and becomes for me in the course of the fragrance always more beautiful, balsamic and ethereal-fresh.
Overall, it remains with me 8 hours, well in the vicinity perceptible to skin, on the skin.