Midsummer Muse

Lost at Sea

2008-06-24T14:54:00.000-07:00

Lost at Sea is a perfume line and a creative story told through scent written entirely in journal entries. It is the story of a young man, who owns an apothecary shop in London. He is invited to sail with a merchant ship sailing to the East Indies so that he can purchase exotic spices and elixirs to sell in his apothecary shop. During the voyage, things go terribly wrong, and the ship they are sailing on, The Ambassador, is attacked by pirates sailing on a ship called The Sea Dragon. The entire crew is killed by the pirates and the young man is taken captive. He is terrified that he will be killed but fascinated by the pirate captain's unsual collection of oddities. The young man is eventually rescued by a cargo ship headed to England but not before he makes some extraordinary discoveries of his own. The story is to be continued...

The Reef Journals- I left my wife and young son in England to make a voyage to the Indies to purchase spices, oils, tropical elixirs, and balms to sell in my apothecary shop. I was excited about the trip to another part of the world because I heard from some merchants that the air was warm and filled with spices. I didn’t know anything about sailing, or ships, but I had complete trust in the Captain and our study ship, The Ambassador. I admit that my one fear is the time away from my family, and the burden I place upon my wife to run my shop while I am away and care for our son who is too young to attend school. To keep myself closer to home, closer to London, closer to my family, I have decided to record all my adventures within my leather-bound journal to share with all upon my return.

Salty sea spray, aquatic blue musk, citron and lime men’s cologne, a hint of English lilac, and the fine Cordovan leather of a journal.

The Voyage of the Ambassador- The ship is immense and I’m eager to begin the journey. I glance up and through skeletal trees bearing late September leaves, I see London’s skyline. Factories pulse fragrant plooms of white smoke into the dusky night sky, and the air is spiced with the approach of October. I will miss the common luxuries of my homeland and upon this revelation I look to the crowd gathered to send us off and the last image of my England is the tearful expression of my wife.

Crisp British winds, crinkled autumnal leaves mingle with the sweet and earthy smell of oaken wood from the forest near the sea port, smoke stacks pulsating musky vanilla plooms, dark and sweet black tea, loose leaf smoking tobacco, and the faint warming aroma of amaretto brandy.

South Winds of the Atlantic- Strong winds pick up about two months into the journey and although the ship has caught the strong headwind, the crew is tossed from one side of the ship to the next. I might have been sick as well had I not brought various herbs from my shop hidden within a wooden chest. The strong winds shake our ship with autumnal force until relief comes in the third month, just as the delicate south winds caress our ship and guide her to calmer waters.

Warm breezes carrying the scent of flowers and fruit.

Lisbon Seaport- We arrive at Lisbon in the late afternoon, just as the sun is making its way across the sky. Tiny black birds fly overhead and the salt of the sea mixes with the far off scent of spices. Delicate trees with snowy white bark release a flutter of golden leaves over our heads just as we touch foot onto the pier. That night at dinner, under a dark veil of midnight sky laced with white stars, I think about my wife. She must be freezing in our bed alone, while the fire’s light paints dark shadows onto the ceiling depicting scenes of battles and wreckage. Perhaps she wakes in terror, her cold skin damp with night sweat, while my skin is warm and I feel happy to be part of this voyage. I feel a strong tinge of guilt, but it's quickly forgotten because the air in Lisbon is warm and sweet and mixes with the evening scents of dark coffee, red wine, spices, and blackberries.

Dark vanilla, cassia flower, black coffee, fragrant red wine, golden patchouli, black pepper, and plump blackberries.

The Spice Islands- This was well-worth the long months aboard the ship, well-worth my time away from my family and my wife, well-worth the years that I slaved away at my dank apothecary shop dreaming about exotic spices, elixirs, and brews. The market was filled with rare and beautiful wonders and if one could possibly describe the scent it would be sweet red roses from the flower vendor, dark vanilla in pink glass jars, exotic woods of every kind, and spices in tiny gold tins promising love to any woman or man.

A warm afternoon filled with the bustle of an open-air market. The sounds of golden coins changing hands, of papery wind dragons taking flight, of conversations whispered about times’ long past, and the scent of sweet red roses, musky vanilla, aged sandalwood, pimento berry, and Melanesia spices carried in the wind.

The East Indies- Paradise, the most beautiful place that I have ever seen. The air is damp and yet hot, the sands are clean and ivory, the water clear and warm. The sailors are jumping off of the boat and swimming to shore, only to be greeted by beautiful woman wearing flowers in their hair and not much else. The air is fragrant with fruit and flowers and the sound of the ocean touching the shore is intoxicating.

Tiare Māori gardenia, fresh green mango, dewy pink tuberose, white jasmine flower, coconut milk, orange blossom, and a faint trail of green champa incense carried in the evening breeze.

Sinking of the Ambassador- I don’t remember much from this catastrophic turn of events but I awoke to the ringing of a bell and the smells of fragrant smoke and half-charred wood. Someone grabbed me by the shirt and put a hood over my eyes. I hear screaming and shouting and then splashes of water. There is only one explanation for this and it’s the worst possible thing that could ever happen. Pirates… I’m a dead man for sure. Now the screams of my new friends are the last thing I will relive in my head over and over until I meet my own sorry fate. I scream at the top of my lungs for God to save me and someone tells me to shut up, that I’ll be seeing God sooner than I think if I let out one more scream. I whimper under the fabric that smells of fermented ale and wish I were dead.

Half-charred wood, fragrant smoke, puffs of gunpowder, swords covered in dark blood, plundered cargo, and the murky undertow of a ship's burial beneath the waves.

Lost At Sea- I haven’t spoken to my wife since departing for my journey. I promised her that I would send word of my condition at the Lisbon Seaport but there was no time to send a letter. I know that my wife will hear word of the Ambassador sinking and fear the worst. I imagine her writing me a good-bye letter, showing our young son that he too must say good-bye to his father. The letter would tell me all the things that she never got a chance to say, all the promises of our life together broken and laid to rest at sea. The letter would be watered in her tears, and because she couldn’t mail the letter, she would place it in a bottle and toss it into the vast Atlantic Ocean.

A parchment letter soaked with salty tears, softly scented with a young woman’s lilac water and placed in a clear glass bottle, set a-drift among the aquamarine waves of the Atlantic Ocean.

The Captain’s Quarters- While I wait for the captain to return I am escorted to his quarters where I decide to not become involved or become attached to any of his personal collectables but through the haze of scented smoke, curiosity gets the best of me as it would to any man or woman, and time, once my friend, becomes a slow enemy while I wait for my impending doom. What will be done with me? Clearly I have been allowed to live but what greater purpose will my life fill as part of some evil plan? What will be done with me once I serve their bidding? Will I then be tossed over-board? I can’t swim very well and certainly can’t breathe under water so this thought terrifies me, but still worse is the thought of being cut into hundreds of pieces and sent home to my wife in a hollow pine coffin. My fears are subsided by the glimpse of a shining golden orb, the tick-tock of a clock, the rustle of softly-scented air by my cheek, the constant glow of an odd blue light and something tall and pointed, possibly made of ivory detailed in pure silver that appears to be a horn. What marvels are to be explored here?

Deep oaken wood, worn leather bound books, dusty parchment atlases, bottled exotic spices, black husked coconuts, and dirty flasks half filled with dark rum.

Eye of the Hurricane- The odd blue light grows brighter and a whirl begins from within the square jar with the elaborate gold cap and the jar shakes with elemental energy.

Neon blue musk, electric silver mint, green aquatic herbs, lemon peel, blue trimmed eucalyptus, and dusty and dirty debris lifted by the wind.

Ghost of the Virgin Bride- The tale--which was probably just a story told to women by the men who wanted to bed them--states that a woman and her wedding party were all killed by a rogue band of pirates after her wedding ceremony but before her marriage was consummated. Her ghost haunts ships sailing around the Indies, looking for a man to bed her during a full moon so that her tortured soul may rest.

Aged white musk of the apparition, the bridal folds of an antique gown covered in a thick layer of sweet-powdery dust, sorrowful blue violets and sweet coconut flower from the bridal bouquet, haunting gray vanilla, delicate cotton blossom, and an initial flash of pink pepper.

Golden Apple- Under a thick rose-tinted glass dome sits a golden apple stolen from The Garden of the Hesperides. The apple is perfect in shape and form and a single golden leaf has unfolded gently for no other benefit than to signify the beauty and ethereal quality of the orb. Having been plucked from the tree the apple skin is surprisingly unblemished and glows with a warmth and beauty that are beyond this world.

The sweet and dewy scent of golden apples left to ripen in the September sun, a crisp and clean autumnal wind gently rustling brown tree leaves, majestic oaken tree trunks twisting into the earth with branches curling inward to protect the golden apples and the warming vanilla glow of perpetual dusk.

Three-Way Timepiece- Tells the time including the past, present, and future, and records the happenings on three different planes. Opening the clock reveals moving pictures of sorts and allows the user to see with their own eyes the fairy realm, the kingdom of clouds where the angels reside, and the dark depths under the earth where the goblins, demons, and other dark creatures dwell.

Worn golden brass, the slight scent of yellowed oil, warm metallic gears and brackets, dark stains suggesting a once well-oiled timepiece, and the soft vibrations of time as we know it being kept on three alternate planes.

Unicorn Horn- The most amazing item from the Captain’s collection was a unicorn horn. What was believed to be myth, what was thought to be a treasure from the Gods, the creatures of the moon, the mysteries of magic and the most pure of all beings. How could someone have harmed such an extraordinary beast for such a novel trophy? What on earth was the pirate captain doing with a unicorn horn?

Shimmering moon musk, pink-tipped white clover, Scottish heather, wild mountain Laurel, twice-blessed pagan herbs, and a dusting of luminous Celtic white flowers.

The Sea Dragon- The Pirate Captain tells me that he has traveled the world, to places that no other man dare step foot. He and his crew use a compass, a magical timepiece, to enter realms closed off to humans and it’s been there, at these realms, that he has not just witnessed magic but stolen it. It’s more of this magic that he wants from me. I protest and tell him that I know nothing of magic and gardens filled with golden apples, of time pieces that tick away the past, present and future but he tells me that he has kept me alive for one purpose and that is my breathing apparatus. “My what?” I ask, unable to comprehend how he knows such things. “Don’t try to pretend that I don’t know such things”. He says close to me, his breath warm and dry on my skin. I remember developing and testing my under-water breathing apparatus in a shallow stream that empties into the mill near my town. I had never told anyone about my fear of the water, about my fear of drowning about my nightmares of drowning in the ocean. I built and carried my breathing apparatus with me everywhere, even while I slept. I never told another soul. “How the hell do you…” “Know about your invention? Don’t be silly mate, I can go anywhere, see anything. Do you really think you boarded The Ambassador by chance?” He laughs and the tick of the clock grows louder. “I don’t have much time before they go back to where they came and then I won’t be able to follow…” “What are you talking about?” I ask, suddenly annoyed. “The mermaids!” he yells “use your breathing invention to enter the cove of the mermaids and bring me back one of their white pearls!”

Aged black vanilla, brine coated wood, dragon’s blood resin, salty sea spray, otherworld spiced incense, and ocean waves crashing upon the deck from the slash of the beast’s tail.

Under the Pacific Waters- Just then, beneath a pitch of darkness, I’m tossed over-board. The water is cold and black with no moon to light my way and I splash to the surface. I can see the faint lights of the boat and then, without explanation, without reason, the Sea Dragon vanishes and I sink below the surface.

The cold blue water of the Pacific, green tea leaves, sea moss, white pear, salted musk, and dark aquatic herbs.

With Mermaids- I float on the surface of the water for what seems to be hours, using my arms and the same repetitive motion with my legs. I’m not swimming but I’m staying above the water. By the time the sun begins to rise I can’t move my legs much more and I feel fatigue giving way and exhaustion over-taking me. I sink below the surface, too tired to put on my breathing apparatus, too weary to fight. I close my eyes and sink deeper towards my watery tomb. I feel someone taking my hand and kissing my mouth. For a second I relive a past memory and I see my lovely wife and I taking our son to the beach so that he could run on the hard-packed sand. I open my eyes and see wisps of blond curled hair, my wife… I get to see my wife before I die. I feel my body sink deeper and the sun slowly departing overhead. I hear the enchanting song of angels, the soft caress at my cheek, my wife’s mouth over mine, I caress her breast and open my eyes one last time to see that I’m with mermaids.

Green sea kelp, salty ocean water, white melon rind, aquatic flowers, and Pacific sea foam.

The Cargo Ship's Rescue- I don’t remember anything more. The cargo ship’s captain says that they saw me floating on a large piece of drift wood, the sole survivor of a ship that went down. They pulled me in and treated me for dehydration and elemental exposure. They told me over and over again that I was lucky to be alive, that not many men had survived being lost at sea, but I knew there was more to the story and the single white deep sea pearl wrapped in my silk hankerchief tells a tale of memaids, of late night kisses and secrets of the deep. Perhaps in time I will remember, perhaps my most exciting adventure to date has not all been lost…

Creamy coconut milk, lavender-infused water, white sandalwood, jasmine sambac flowers, thick rope, and wind-brushed wood of the cargo crates.

All Lost at Sea © writing, perfumes and descriptions are property of Midsummer Muse and not to be duplicated or copied. Thank you, from the Muse.

Le Chat de la Boulangerie Francaise

2008-06-24T14:45:00.000-07:00

Le Chat de la Boulangerie Francaise, The Cat of the French Bakery- Creamy and sweet American-style cheesecake trimmed in wild raspberries.

Le Souris Francaise, The French Mouse- tender and sweet wild basil and chocolate infused a light oil. 1ml glass sample vial.

Introducing Le Chat de la Boulangerie Francaise, The Cat of the French Bakery, the third in a series of feline-inspired charity perfume oil blends. 50% of every bottle sold will go to a specific cat shelter or rescue organization. The recipient of the proceeds from Le Chat de la Boulangerie Francaise will be the Cat Welfare Association, a shelter in Columbus, Ohio dedicated to promoting better care and understanding of cats while providing the physical welfare of homeless cats and kittens. This shelter really needs your help.

Please visit The Cat Welfare Association at: http://www.catwelfareohio.com/

Big Top Rooibos, The Tea House, Charity Perfume Oil Blend

2008-05-08T14:59:00.000-07:00

Big Top Roobios- South African red rooibos tea infused with hints of red and black currant, white cranberry, and sweetened with raw sugar cane and softened with flecks of caramel.

50% of each bottle sold will benefit Northwest Animal Rights Network, a charity organization working to free elephants from harmful conditions such as circuses and un-safe zoo situations so that the elephants may be free in sanctuaries.

The following includes contact information and how to make secure on-line donations:

For more information about the campaign to Free the Woodland Park Zoo elephants, or to find out how you can help, please contact us at:

Northwest Animal Rights Network
Friends of WPZ Elephants

10011 Vinton Ct. NW

Seattle, WA 98177

206-595-7770

www.freewpzelephants.org

wpzelephants@yahoo.com

Perfumer's Cat and Decant Mouse, March-May 2008 Charity Perfume Oil Blend

2008-04-13T07:27:00.000-07:00

Introducing Perfumer's Cat and Decant Mouse, the second in a series of feline-inspired charity perfume oil blends. 50% of every bottle sold will go to a specific cat shelter or rescue organization. The recipient of the proceeds from Perfumer's Cat will again be Cozy Cat Cottage, a no kill shelter for abused and neglected cats of all ages and conditions, including special needs cats, located in Powell, Ohio.Please visit Cozt Cat Cottage at: http://www.cozycatcottage.com/

Perfumer's Cat- an assortment of exotic blooms, summer petals, field flowers, and a haze of sweet amethyst incense evoking day-dreams of places long ago and far away.

Decant Mouse- soft orange blooms, tender pink petals, and herbal spring greens. 1ml glass sample vial

The Tea House

2008-03-17T14:42:00.000-07:00

Introducing The Tea House, a line of hand-blended perfumes inspired by tea house offerings, reading by the fire, and of course blended teas!

Eglantine- A prim and proper brew of dark black tea leaves, fragrant English rose buds, gray violet leaf, and a spritz of un-sweetened lemon.

Golden Temple- Gold Darjeeling tea leaves dried by the sun, sweet honey musk, whole vanilla bean, and a touch of toasted white coconut.

Londonberry- black tea, fresh lemon, English strawberry, and a petite peel of candied lemon rind.

Poison Ring- Dusty white tea leaves, lemon blossom, green sage, and opium resin.

Red Flower- Green tea absolute, pomegranate seeds, and spring cherry blossoms.

Scottie's Blend- Irish black tea, white sugar, a drop of golden honey, a warming shot of nutmeg, and candied lemon rind.

Smoking Plum- smoky Lapsang Souchong black tea, sweet Mount Wuyi black plum, raw vanilla pods, and a hint of cedar and redwood, create a dreamy mid-afternoon mist of esoteric mysteries.

The Gray lady- Fragrant black Bergamot tea infused with Italian lemon, Persian lime peel, silver lavender petals, and wispy notes of blue gray juniper

The Peach Tree- Dry white tea leaves, ripe golden peaches, late summer blooms, and a slightly-spiced humid, hazy summer evening.

White Petal- Green tea leaves, Moroccan jasmine petals, and a hint of organic orange-flower honey.

White Vapor- A trio of dry mints, white tea, and a hearty dose of sweet vanilla sugar.

Valentine's 2008

2008-02-02T14:05:00.001-08:00

Nothing warms the heart like some romantic perfume. Live now at my Etsy shop.

Blush- Fine pink spun sugar and purple lavender.

Courtly Love- Powdery white sandalwood, red rose petals, apricot flower and silvery wisteria.

Cupid's Embrace- Golden amber, burgundy rose, and a touch of skin-warmed leather.

Dark Moon Kiss- Darkest plum, bracing midnight air, spicy resins, black vanilla, and an un-common kiss under a dark moon

Love's Lament- The heart-wrenching anguish of what never was... Sorrowful blue musk, tear stained hankerchiefs, immortal English ivy, and aged, lace-trimmed flower bouquets.

Secret Admirer- To hold the love of another in ones' heart, secretly... Aged parchment paper, words of love painstaking scribed, dewy summer air, heady tuberose, light garden florals drifting through an open window, and wisps of future visions.

Winter Amusement Park, Five Chilling Attractions

2008-01-21T07:51:00.000-08:00

Frozen Midway- Snow-filled wind whispers the approach of evening. Tiny, white lights above vacant food carts flicker on and off. The haunting melody of laughter and carnival rides echo in the chilly breeze.

Frozen blackberries, raspberries, and black winter cherries mingle with the faint scent of elephant ears, cotton candy, caramel apples, and sugared funnel cakes.

Crystallized Candy Cart- At the end of a colored cobblestone path covered in sheets of clear ice you come upon a light pink candy cart, stuck in a snow drift. Under a glass of ice, hundreds of candies twinkle and shine in the white cast of the moon's light.

Pink licorice, lime green wedges, sweet orange bursts, red fruit bites, vanilla straws, hard caramels, cotton candy frozen into pink wisps, crystal musk, and frozen white birch branches.

Frigid Funhouse- Beyond the knee-deep snow, the eerie drown of a melody cuts through the wind. Red, orange, and pink lights highlighting a deserted funhouse illuminate the dark night sky. Snow has gathered upon the moving staircase, now still, silent. Thick icicles hang from caged windows, the memory of August evenings now only a faded vapor curling through the cold bars. Plastic mirrors covered in thick frost distort the image of a clown face, hiding in the shadows.

Frozen wisps of dark caramel, spiced red cherry, cystallized spun sugar, and dark, smokey vanilla curls.

Haunted Castle- You see the exit far in the distance, a trace of dawn cutting through the black pitch of night sky, but one attraction calls to you through a veil of newly fallen snow. Piercing blue lights, the sound of grinding metal cutting through the winter air, and a loud buzzer force you to hault at the entrance. A slow, steady siren starts from the back and soon an empty seat emerges. You climb into the seat and disappear behind the flapping black door.

The faint metallic smell of cold metal and gears, warm spices, curls of black cherry smoke, and a tinge of snow melting into puddles.

Phantom Carousel- The approach of dawn was only a mirage and you hear loud chimes announcing the midnight hour. You glance down at your watch, convinced that midnight had already come and gone, but your watch appears to have stopped, both hands trapped at midnight. A cold, vaporous fog has moved in and you can bearly make out the shimmering pink lights ahead. You stumble in the direction that can only be straight and find yourself at a vintage carousel. You run your fingers on the intricate detail of a white stallion, his gold bridle inlaid with pink roses. You touch the horse's cold saddle and feel a slight shudder as if you felt movement. An odd out-of-tune melody begins and you have no choice but to climb onto the white stallion's back, completely unaware of his nostels breath mixing with the white fog.

A snow-filled evening, dense sugary fog, red lavender, pink carnation, white rose, and a touch of parma violet.

Church Cat and Mouse, December 2007-February 2008 Charity Perfume Oil Blend

2007-12-28T13:26:00.000-08:00

Introducing Church Cat, the first in a series of feline-inspired charity perfume oil blends. 50% of every bottle sold will go to a specific cat shelter or rescue organization. The recipient of the proceeds from Church Cat will be Cozy Cat Cottage, a no kill shelter for abused and neglected cats of all ages and conditions, including special needs cats, located in Powell, Ohio.
Please visit Cozt Cat Cottage at: http://www.cozycatcottage.com/

Church Cat- a wintry blend of warm church resins and wisps of ethereal smoke mixed with newly fallen snow.

Church Mouse- warm amber and a drop of cinnamon, 1ml glass sample vial.

Poet's Corner

2007-11-06T16:51:00.000-08:00

This is a poem that I wrote in graduate school while I lived in Boston. This particular poem is one half of a two-part poem, the other being Chess on a Monday. This poem is written from a woman's perspective, describing her version of a romantic first date with a musician. Since Midsummer Muse crafts poetic blends I thought that my own poetry would be a great way to capture emotion through scent. Look for this perfume on Etsy in the next few weeks. The following poem appears in a personal collection of poetry and is to be reproduced in no way without the poet's permission.

Of Cathedrals and Christmas © by LCY

Sitting across from the God on the wings of fire
I’m afraid the table will topple,
Spilling tea over the white afternoon.
His voice is tantalizing, hypnotic; I dream while awake
The high windows and the sloping cathedral of a ceiling,
Release quiet doves to hover in the invisible rafters.

Metal stars with cutout designs reflect a vanilla light,
Perfectly dim in the quiet of a December afternoon,
I taste his coffee, perhaps the same place where his lips touched.
His wrist falls across the table and I inhale: cold, silent, winter;
Brandy in bed after making love, clove cigarettes,
and lingering cinnamon.

Fire in the distance crackles the essence of orange rind
and Christmas, the tiny bell jingles on the door,
and the loft is filled with a flurry of snow.
I wonder about the frame of his neck,
Touching his copper hair with its angelic curls
and kissing his skin with my mouth.

He takes my hand and the light on our table grows brighter
I hesitate at pulling my hand away,
afraid the heat will disappear as if it
Never clung in a warm, shimmering veil.
His dark eyes hide something that I cannot place.
How can you ask someone not to hurt you, when you know they can?

He places my coat across my shoulders
and lingers in the scent of my hair.
Time opens in the glance of his black wristwatch
with the scratched face,
and he walks me to the train and it is only a sad good-bye
suffocated in a hug.

His smile reflects in the living rooms of strangers
Walking, the air seems dense with orange and sandalwood
My hair has curled when I take off my hat
I wonder what will happen now,
He says that every time a door closes a window opens,
but I only see the door.

Spiced vanilla bean, candied orange rind, sandalwood, dark cinnamon stick and a puff of sweet smoke from a vintage clove cigarette.

This particular poem is one half of a two-part poem, the other being Of Cathedrals and Christmas. This poem is written from a man's perspective, describing his version of a romantic first date. There is a stark simplicity to this version but I think the anticipation of love is still there. The following poem appears in a personal collection of poetry and is to be reproduced in no way without the poet's permission.

Chess on a Monday © by LCY

The door opens with a December wind
And I’m standing there
Knowing exactly who she is,
Recognizing her face from last summer
When we played chess in the square.

Climbing the narrow stairway
Of the tea shop with the bell
On the door,
And tall windows displaying
Tips of bare branches touched by snow.

She orders mint tea
Smiling all the while,
Ironically making me nervous.
She tells me that she is afraid,
That the tiny table will topple and spill her tea.

I smell the pale cloud
That is her scent
From across the table.
Her delicate breasts rise with each
Breath she takes, silent at times.

Rosy and full lips
The color of pomegranates,
Lock me out of any chance
Of saying a thing,
Shut me out from pretending

To myself things I feel.
Turning to leave, she stops to fix
My scarf and I feel part of myself
Hurt already,
By something good.

Green tea extract, white mint leaves, winter pomegranate, spiced cherry tea-cakes and a hint of teak incense floating over the tea table.

Yuletide Perfumes

2007-11-05T14:28:00.000-08:00

Without any further delay, I'd like to officially announce winter perfume blends for the up-coming holiday season. A few scents are winter-perfect and are part of my general collection but will be available for the first time this winter. The remainder of the scents are seasonal, limited, but will linger long enough to bring light and joy to your holiday gift-giving season.

Dodona- The mythical land of the talking oak trees where the people eat only acorns and sweet acorn bread. Perseus, on his quest to find and kill the Gorgon Medusa, stops here at the request of the priestess at Delphi. Dry, aged oaken wood, the essence of acorn for fertility and yearly blessings, and a blend of three nuts softened by a sugared winter wind.

Dust of Snow-

Dust of Snow, Robert Frost
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

A winter dusting of snow, chilly December wind, hemlock pine sprigs and a hint of red, sweet, winter berries to add a touch of crowish playfulness

Gingerbread House- Fresh white ginger, nutmeg, cinnamon leaf, and clove bud oil all come together to create the traditional scent of gingerbread, only better!

Guinevere- Silver lilac, sparkling white musk, white rose petals, golden peach and just a drop of sinful red rose

Jack Frost- A chilly winter blend of peppermint essential oil and vanilla absolute.

King Arthur- Warm leather, aged dark vanilla, cypress branches, and a withered rose.

Lancelot- Damp forest greenery, the black-blue sky glittering with stars, cold spring-fed water and dry autumn leaves.

Merlin- Elemental energy from cinnamon bark, five ancient woods, dried autumn leaves, melted snow and a blend of forest herbs.

Mexico City- White flowers at sunset, fire logs burning into the night, chocolate, cardamon, cinnamon, sweet cakes from a pastry shop and incense wafting from a Cathedral.

Moroccan Market- The light of a hundred stars glistens from candle light to lantern light. All around the air is spicy and deep. Scents of passion, adventure, of deep longing and a moon-less desert night. Cassia, market spices, golden musk, pink carnation and dark amber.

Oaxaca- Cocoa absolute and spicy cinnamon bark. As rich as the city itself.

Oslo- Norwegian white spruce, cedar, juniper berries, powdery vanilla ice, lavender buds and a blast of Viking cold winter air.

Winter Camping Series

Camp Treats- Crisp graham crackers, fluffy marshmallows and warm milk chocolate. Even better than you remembered.

Fireside Chat- Wood logs burned low to embers, cinnamon swirls of fire smoke, and a hint of chestnuts.

Hot Chocolate- The comforting warmth of milk chocolate, steamed milk and a dab of homemade vanilla marshmallows.

Warm Flannel- The clean scent of soft flannel pajamas warmed by the morning cabin fire. This is a clean, light floral scent, no hints of smoke here.

Theraputic Oil Blends

2007-10-21T07:14:00.000-07:00

Rx for Winter-Are you one of those people who get sick in the winter? This therapeutic oil will help banish those cold germs for good. Black tea absolute, sweet lemon and eucalyptus will warm you from the inside and open your breathing passages.

Slumber-Having trouble finding a blissful night's sleep? Looking for a blend that is completely natural and delicate on sensitive skin? Bulgarian Lavender, Chamomile and a few choice bed-time herbs, will send you off to a deliciously-scented slumber. This is a light oil that will not interfere with sleep but will help your body relax enough to find sleep. This oil also makes a wonderful perfume oil for people who love lavender and desire a scent to relax them through the work day.

Autumn Additions, General and Limited

2007-09-16T18:36:00.000-07:00

Caramel Apple, LE- all the sweet caramel and the spicy apples that you love.

Black Apple- Blood red apple, a midnight incantation and a dusting of black potion resin.

Glowing Jack-O-Lantern, LE- Pumpkins glowing in the cold autumn eve.

Ghost Dancer- A dry white scent celebrating the annual spirits' dance under the October full moon. Tree bones bare of flower and leaf, aged cemetary blooms, the cold on-set of midnight and the deep scent of weathered funeral incense.

Golden Autumn- the yellow hues of the season, especially the leaves. Aged golden amber, vanilla bean, yellow and brown leaves dried in the cool afternoon and autumn spices.

Poisoned Apple, LE- Green apple and poisoned witches' herbs harvested during the dark moon.

Spirit Cakes, LE- inspired by the offertory soul cakes from All Souls Day which occurs annually on November 2nd.

Cemetery Roses

2007-09-08T07:49:00.000-07:00

This is a darker line of oils inspired by the natural variety of roses that appears in old cemeteries that are often abandoned. Cemetery roses grow and climb around headstones and thrive on neglect and isolation. Many of the buds and blooms remain nameless to this day, but are often cultivers of roses dating back to the early 1800's.

Black Night-black rose petals and aged black musk.

Pink Creeper-New Pink rose buds and a deadly bouquet of poisoned red berries.

Red Goth- burgundy rose, aged black patchouli and cassia flower.

Silver Phantom-Tender white rose petals, shimmering white musk, and French white lilac.

Limited Edition Summer 2007

2007-06-19T17:01:00.000-07:00

The Ohio State Fair may not open until August but State Fair by Midsummer Muse rolls into town on July 6th through August 31st. Get your share before they're gone!

State Fair- A sweet, nostalgia-inducing array of sugared elephant ears, funnel cake, pink cotton candy, caramel apples and black cherry tartlets.

Arthurian Legends

2007-06-19T16:56:00.000-07:00

Inspired by the Legend of King Arthur, these perfume blends come packaged in amber glass bottles in our standard 5ml size. They also come in 1ml sample sizes.

Guinevere- Silver lilac, sparkling white musk, white rose petals, golden peach and just a drop of sinful red rose.

King Arthur- Warm leather, aged dark vanilla, cypress branches, and a withered rose.

Lady of the Lake- Water lily, pure spring water, the purple mist of nearby Avalon, purest white musk and the ethereal glow of a crescent moon.

Lancelot- Damp forest greenery, the black-blue sky glittering with stars, cold spring-fed water and dry autumn leaves.

Merlin- elemental energy from cinnamon bark, five ancient woods, dried autumn leaves, melted snow and a blend of forest herbs.

The Black Swan- Black musk, black tea essence, black rose petals and black cherry blossoms suspended in a fragrant mist-like fog.

The White Swan- Creamy white musk, white tea, white rose essence and white orange blossoms with the faintest hint of disappearing mist.

The Library

2007-06-10T16:42:00.000-07:00

The library features scents inspired by poetry and prose.

Apostrophe to the Ocean, from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage by George Gordon, Lord Byron

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is a society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar;
I love not man the less, but nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean-roll!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
Man marks the earth with ruin-his control
Stops with the shore; upon the watery plain
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,
When, for a moment, like a drop of rain,
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.

Reckless sea spray, white lightning-charged sky, dark aquatic notes of a sea without end, the sweet tinge of salt-soaked wood and the soft glow of golden amber lantern light.

Dust of Snow, Robert Frost

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

Late Autumn, Autumn: A Dirge, Percy Bysshe Shelley

The warm sun is falling, the bleak wind is wailing,
The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying,
And the Year
On the earth is her death-bed, in a shroud of leavesdead,
Is lying.
Come, Months, come away,
From November to May,
In your saddest array;
Follow the bierOf the dead cold Year,
And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.
The chill rain is falling, the nipped worm is crawling,
The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knellingFor the Year;
The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone
To his dwelling.
Come, Months, come away;
Put on white, black and gray;
Let your light sisters play--Ye, follow the bier
Of the dead cold Year,
And make her grave green with tear on tear.

Cold November wind, woodland trees bare of leaf. Brown, dried leaves, slumber in a damp, cold, cocoon of newly fallen snow. A cold, watery, earthen scent with a touch of post-autumn resin.

Sleepy Hollow, Washington Irving

This sequestered glen has long been known by the name of Sleepy Hollow. A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to hang over the land, and to pervade the very atmosphere. The Hollow still continues under the sway of some witching power that holds a spell over the minds of the good people, causing them to walk in a continual reverie. They are given to all kinds of marvelous beliefs, are subject to trances and visions, and frequently see strange sights, and hear music and voices in the air. The whole neighborhood abounds with local tales, haunted spots, and twilight superstitions; stars shoot and meteors glare oftener across the valley than in any other part of the country, and the nightmare, with her whole nine fold, seems to make it the favorite scene of her gambols.

The scent of autumn in the countryside. Dried hay bundles, crisp apple, aged apple cider barrels, drying leaves, spices and the warm scent of pumpkins lining the front door.

The Horseman, Sleepy Hollow, Washington irving

The dominant spirit, however, that haunts this enchanted region and seems to be commander-in-chief of all the powers of the air is the apparition of a figure on horseback without a head. It is said by some to be the ghost of a Hessian trooper, whose head had been carried away by a cannon ball, in some nameless battle during the Revolutionary War, and who is ever and anon seen by the country folk, hurrying along in the gloom of night, as if on the wings of the wind. His haunts are not confined to the valley, but extend at times to the adjacent roads, and especially to the vicinity of a church at no great distance. Indeed, certain of the most authentic historians of those parts, who have been careful in collecting and collating the floating facts concerning this specter, allege that the body of the trooper, having been buried in the churchyard, the ghost rides forth to the scene of battle in nightly quest of his head; and that the rushing speed with which he sometimes passes along the Hollow, like a midnight blast, is owing to his being belated, and in a hurry to get back to the churchyard before daybreak.

A glowing, ghostly apparition. Cool leather slapped by warm dragon's blood, a faint curl of smoke, dark patchouli and a slight presence of pumpkin, perhaps used in place of a head.

Ichabod Crane, Sleepy Hollow, Washington irving

Ichabod Crane was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, and his whole frame most loosely hung together. His head was small, and flat at top, with huge ears, large green glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose, so that it looked like a weathercock, perched upon his spindle neck, to tell which way the wind blew. To see him striding along the profile of a hill on a windy day, with his clothes bagging and fluttering about him, one might have mistaken him for the genius of famine descending upon the earth, or some scarecrow eloped from a cornfield.

Dry wood, bundled hay scorched by the autumn sun, farm apple, Dutch amber, October pumpkin and vanilla flower.

Katrina Van Tassel, Sleepy Hollow, Washington Irving

The daughter and only child of a substantial Dutch farmer. She was a blooming lass of fresh eighteen, plump as a partridge, ripe and melting and rosy-cheeked as one of her father's peaches, and universally famed not merely for her beauty, but her vast expectations. She was withal a little of a coquette, as might be perceived even in her dress, which was a mixture of ancient and modern fashions, as most suited to set off her charms. She wore the ornaments of pure yellow gold, which her great-great-grandmother had brought over from Saardam; the tempting stomacher of the olden time; and withal a provokingly short petticoat, to display the prettiest foot and ankle in the country around.

Orchard pear, pomegranate, blushing vanilla and golden musk.

The Thought-Fox, Ted Hughes

I imagine this midnight moment's forest:
Something else is alive
Beside the clock's loneliness
And this blank page where my fingers move.

Through the window I see no star:
Something more near
Though deeper within darkness
Is entering the loneliness:

Cold, delicately as the dark snow
A fox's nose touches twig, leaf;
Two eyes serve a movement, that now
And again now, and now, and now

Sets neat prints into the snow
Between trees, and warily a lame
Shadow lags by stump and in hollow
Of a body that is bold to come

Across clearings, an eye,
A widening deepening greenness,
Brilliantly, concentratedly, Coming about its own business

Till, with a sudden sharp hot stink of fox
It enters the dark hole of the head.
The window is starless still; the clock ticks,
The page is printed.

The remedy for good old-fashioned mental blocks, including writer's block. Snappy white ginger, grapefruit, sweet and blood orange essences, warm spices to get you going and a splash of cold winter snow to keep you there.

Tintern Abbey, William Wordsworth

Five years have past; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters! and again I hear
These waters, rolling from their mountain springs
With a sweet inland murmur. Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
Which on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
The day is come when I again repose
Here, under this dark sycamore, and view
These plots of cottage ground, these orchard tufts,
Which, at this season, with their unripe fruits,
Among the woods and copses lose themselves,
Nor, with their green and simple hue, disturb
The wild green landscape. Once again I see
These hedgerows, hardly hedgerows, little lines
Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms,
Green to the very door; and wreathes of smoke
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees!
With some uncertain notice, as might seem
Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods,
Or of some hermit's cave, where by his fire
The hermit sits alone.

Plum, white peach, and peach blossoms from nearby orchards, green mosses, wild thyme, melancholy mint, cool mountain water and the subtle smoke that lingers as if from a dream.

Victorian Apothecary

2007-05-22T13:37:00.000-07:00

The Victorian Apothecary is now open for business! Indulge your senses with waters, potions, perfumes and salts, all inspired by the plants, flowers and herbs of the time.

The Green Ghost- Feeling fatigued and exhausted? Fresh Peppermint and spearmint, dark blackberries, sage tea and delicate fern leaf weave a ghost-like chill over your skin.

Absinthe- Summon the green fairy with our light summertime blend of wormwood, sweet thyme, spearmint, anise, cardamom and a spritz of lemon.

Shy Violet- Reconnect with you inner wallflower. A dreamy, quiet blend of opium smoke, spring violets, pink roses and anti-social musk.

White Veil- The softest touch of hint at Spring. Lime, lilac buds, lemon peel and a trio of pale, dry musks.

English Rose- A nod toward refinery. Red, wild pink and tea roses softened with a touch of white tea and freshly laundered tea-table linens.

Myths and Legends

2007-03-17T14:03:00.000-07:00

Myths and Legends plays homage to great stories of quests, battles, mythical explorations and magickal journeys.

Atlantis - Legend says that an earthquake swallowed Atlantis but some believe that the city still thrives today, far below the ocean.

Salty sea spray, water lily, incense smoke to Poseidon, and the deep blue depths of the sea.

Dodona- The mythical land of the talking oak trees where people eat only acorns and sweet acorn bread. Perseus, on his quest to find and kill the Gorgon Medusa, stops here at the request of the priestess at Delphi.

Sweet oaken wood, the essence of acorn for fertility and yearly blessings and a blend of three nuts softened by a sugared winter wind.

Tir na nOg- Legend has it that beyond the edges of any map, located on an island to the West, lies the land of the fairies. Irish stories have long been told about this land of eternal youth and beauty. Here music, life, joy and all that is pleasurable come together in one magical place.

Green moss, pale ferns, tobacco, black fruits, milk, honey and sugared-violet.

The Garden of the Hesperides- This garden is located far to the West, as far as the sun sets, near the Atlas Mountains. Here the immortality-giving golden apples which were grown from a single branch that Gaia gave to Hera and Zeus as an Engagement present, are tended by the lovely nymphs the Hesperides.

In this land of soft starlight there is the scent of evening dew on apples, autumnal fires, crisp leaves, oak branches, a midnight sky with stars and vanilla mist rising over the mountains.

The Nymphs of the North- These women live on Hyperboria, the land beyond the North Wind. It is said that no traveler shall reach this land by ship nor by land, and neither shall one find the wonderous road to the gathering place of the Hyperboreans. Perseus finds the land with the help of Hermes and is welcomed by a host of happy people who are always banqueting and joyous. They show him great kindness and welcome him to their feast, and the maidens of the North, dancing to flute and lyre, pause to get him the gifts he seeks to kill Medusa. These gifts were a) winged sandals enabling him to fly, b) a magic silver pouch that would adjust itself to the size of whatever it held, and c) a cap or helmet of darkness from Hades which made the wearer invisible.

Frosty North wind, pearlesque snowflakes, distant laughter carried on snow-filled drifts, silver platters of candied lemon tarts, lemon tea, and vanilla-sugared citrus fruits.

Distant Travels

2007-01-09T17:47:00.000-08:00

Traveling is both enriching and inspiring. The picture above was taken on a chilly morning in Oaxaca, Mexico. The mist of the mountains hang in the background and the empty street beckons for shoppers and vendors alike. In the air the sweet, spicy, scent of the ever-present hot chocolate with cinnamon... Welcome to Distant Travels, everything you love about traveling.

Bombay- Golden honey, sandalwood, sweet milk, jasmine buds, saffron threads, and white orchid petals.

Isle of Capri- Italian lime, Tuscan red mandarin, ripe lemon, local honey, fragrant lemon flower, and warm Mediterranean breezes carrying the faintest hint of white flowers.

Mexico City- White flowers at sunset, fire logs burning into the night, chocolate, cardamon, cinnamon, sweet cakes from a pastry shop and incense wafting from a Cathedral.

Moroccan Market- The light of a hundred stars glistens from candle light to lantern light. All around the air is spicy and deep. Scents of passion, adventure, of deep longing and a moon-less desert night. Cassia, market spices, golden musk, pink carnation and dark amber.

Oaxaca- Cocoa absolute and spicy cinnamon bark. As rich as the city itself.

Oslo- Norwegian white spruce, cedar, juniper berries, powdery vanilla ice, lavender buds and a blast of Viking cold winter air.

Sicily- Rosemary blooms, wild spring mint, purple basil, jasmine auriculatum buds, white almond, olive leaf, and tender mountain herbs.

Thailand- Lime peel, vanilla flower, white ginger, and unrefined Coconut oil.

West Indies- Fresh coconut milk, the salty mist of the sea, dark spices from a nearby port-of-call, sweet rum and tobacco flower.

The Hawaiian Islands-

Hawaii- Raw pink sugar cane, white orchid petals, yellow hibiscus, lemon verbena, orange flower, lime blossom, and a hint of creamy coconut carried on the Pacific winds.

Maui- The clear slightly-salty turn of the tide, mixed with a watery assortment of ocean greens, delicate florals, aquatic musks, and salty ozone.

Lanai- Golden sandy beaches scattered with sea shells, the faint scent of pineapple in bloom, fresh mango, and an exotic desert musk carried on the wind.

Niihau- Deep aquatic notes, wild seaweed, the faint memory of gunpowder hoovering in the wind, plundered ships lie beneathe a shroud of dark sea water, and smoldering volcanic rock echoes the sound of cannon fire from centuries past.

Kauai- White orange blossoms, ylang ylang petals, and local gardenia.

Oahu- white sugar cane, dark coffee beans, and vanilla flower.

Honolulu- Iridescent white pearls, vanilla orchid, and creamy skin musk.

Kāneʻohe Bay- Fresh coconut shreds, light cream, and fragrant lemongrass.

About Midsummer Muse

2007-01-02T18:19:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Midsummer Muse! My name is Lori Young and I specialize in creating unique hand-blended perfumes and bath blends that are inspired by literature, poetry and mythology. I find inspiration everywhere and are most fascinated by the Medieval Period, the Victorian Era, Gothic Literature, Tarot Card Reading, Cathedrals, Old Libraries, and Ancient Myth and Lore.

Midsummer Muse strives to create aromatic and homepathetic blends that invoke memories and visions of times long past. I hope that you will appreciate the history and the quality that forms the complete incantation of my line. All of my products are hand-blended in single batches and I use only the finest essential oils and extracts available. Midsummer Muse is a vegan company and I do absolutely no animal testing. All of my products are tested on friends and family.

Friendly reminders-

Because of the nature of my products (oil-based) please test a small area of your body first. Anyone with allergies to the product should discontinue use. If you have a medication condition that you feel might be compromised from the use of the oils or bath blends, please discuss this with your doctor. Please check with your doctor if you are pregnant or nursing. Please practice caution when entering and exiting the bath tub because it might be slippery. As with anything else, please use common sense and therefore do not eat the oils or bath blends, do not use the oils or bath blends on your baby and do not use the oils or bath blends for any purpose other than is recommended.

By purchasing our product, you agree to release Midsummer Muse and anyone included thereof from any responsibility for any unforeseen misuse of product on your behalf.

Thank you for your patronage!