Source: Angel Blue Perfume … Artisan Crafted, Essential Oil & Essence
This prose is the inspiration for my “August Heat” perfume with lovely and sensual notes of Honeysuckle, Cinnamon, Sweet Orange, Ylang Ylang and Vanilla
Dreams From The Wood Porch
A stirring of rust colored leaves rise ethereal with clay dust as the girl child dances under the hazy sun of an August heat…
Not yet Angel gold dipped in sin and prayer, her tinkling laughter is matched by the cicada drone that beats with hypnotic fervor.
He rocks back and forth ceremoniously on the old porch with solemn and careful watching.
The evening damp strangles and descends the smoke clouded mist from the old man’s pipe as a whippoorwill hurriedly cuts through the last lazy moment of heat from the celestial terrace.
He waits in the gathering dark for her to come in as she moves steadfast and barefoot toward the tall blistered wood porch…
Laced with secret and smiling she will lay with thought dreams bathed clean in star shine.
Hello Everyone! I am glad you are here to enjoy some of my thoughts, writings and my fragrance creations ! I love to create, whether it is in my paintings for exhibitions, my photography, perfume making and published writings.
I hope you will enjoy some of my prose-
I stand small, in the summer of my innocence, beneath the ancient, lumbering, struck walnut tree.
The shimmery amber haze of thick Summer sun hypnotize me, as I dream of a silver winged storm that struck a jagged and cavernous rip down through the black walnut tree above me.
Moving on the lazy porch swing by the river, I remember the pungent green scent of the walnut flesh as it stained my fingers prying very eager to enter its inside.
My Grandmother told me what fine Christmas persimmon cookies we would bake with this harvest.
Dusk came with a soft tinkling of the calliope on the supine river and smiles as we sipped with reverence, her special lemon iced tea.
Squeaky rust chain swing broke into the somber silence as the blues and lavender bathed our eyes from the sky.
In my downy coolness of bed, so far up the steps in the old home I see that tree.
It just stands old and knowing…letting some distant storm stir its children leaves. I know it will always be with me.