|Not an accurate representation of Jardin Persolaise|
From shed to lawnmower to compost bin to hanging baskets and back to shed again. Gardening has been the theme creeping through many of the last few days. It's my own fault. There is no shade of green to by found on any of my fingers, which is why the various jobs that need doing keep getting put off, until they cannot be avoided any longer and consequently require several days to sort out. Cue: angst, acrimony and an aching back. Mind you, one of the missions I had to accomplish turned out to be more therapeutic than I'd expected. In an effort to control the weeds, I covered our plant beds with a healthy layer of B&Q's finest wood chips... and their smell was enough to transport me away from my self-pity. I have no idea which trees had been used for the chips, but I'm sure there was something piney and eucalyptus-like in there. I was tempted to save some of it, douse it with frankincense oil and turn it into pot-pourri. But I took the easier way out and ended the day with a spray of Serge Lutens' forest-filled Fille En Aiguilles. It provided a more-than-passable approximation of the stuff in my garden. Who knows? Maybe Christopher Sheldrake was elbow-deep in wood chips when he made it...
PS If you're in the London area this Saturday and you fancy a perfume outing, check out this post.