A recurring fave at the BPAL cantina. No, you’re not hallucinating: this pairing smells divine!
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You’ll just have to trust the bartender on this one! An extra loco coco to encourage beach goths to attempt some moonlight skinny-dipping.
We are gradually adjusting to the fact that in some places, it’s actually cold on Halloween! Wooly and witchy, fuzzy and scuzzy, long green fingers tipped with ruby-red nails: raw wool, sweet oakmoss, and cranberry brandy.
Pictured gloves knitted by Ashton Hansen from a pattern by Kim Hamlin
Ay, thou art welcome, heaven’s delicious breath!
When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,
And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief
And the year smiles as it draws near its death.
Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay
In the gay woods and in the golden air,
Like to a good old age released from care,
Journeying, in long serenity, away.
In such a bright, late quiet, would that I
Might wear out life like thee, ‘mid bowers and brooks
And dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks,
And music of kind voices ever nigh;
And when my last sand twinkled in the glass,
Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass.
– William Cullen Bryant
Dry, cold autumn wind. A rustle of red leaves, a touch of smoke and sap in the air.
Sheer musk and an exhale of evaporated milk.