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After the fox hunt to the boiler hunt
Sooo, my first comment to a real classic, a stroke of luck that this apparently old and still intact original miniature fell into my hands
How do I start?
The first picture that immediately opens up to me and awakens memories is, I hope, an adequate description for a hopefully rudimentary description:
It is Sunday morning and the hunters in their best loden skirts gather for a glass of port wine in a meadow in front of the manor house for a rendezvous. It is a sunny and mild spring morning, the spring breeze blows through the woods, the sun is already warming slightly and the freshly greased bridle of the saddled horses mixes with the grasses of the pasture and the aromas of the port wine.
The hunt begins and leads through picturesque fir forests, both horse and rider break into a sweat and the whole pack is surrounded by a warm spicy earthy leathery breeze.
Back at the manor house the horses are taken care of and the hunter asks to join the traditional hunt and a small refreshment on the pasture in front of the manor house. The stew is traditionally eaten outside in riding clothes. It dawns, and the spices of the wine join the smell of the horse and the woody cabochard on my neck. The atmosphere outside at dusk is relaxed and the first dances in riding clothes are performed, the atmosphere at the campfire is joyful and the long lasting smell from the house of Gres can be experienced without any problems. Even when I take off my riding boots at night when I bend down, a woody breeze swings up to me, now also delicately flowery, and I think with a soulful smile - WHAT A SUNDAY.
Rarely has a fragrance evoked such a strong association in me, strong and natural, durable and so highly recognizable. I think this classic is the founder of my love for Chypres.
The first picture that immediately opens up to me and awakens memories is, I hope, an adequate description for a hopefully rudimentary description:
It is Sunday morning and the hunters in their best loden skirts gather for a glass of port wine in a meadow in front of the manor house for a rendezvous. It is a sunny and mild spring morning, the spring breeze blows through the woods, the sun is already warming slightly and the freshly greased bridle of the saddled horses mixes with the grasses of the pasture and the aromas of the port wine.
The hunt begins and leads through picturesque fir forests, both horse and rider break into a sweat and the whole pack is surrounded by a warm spicy earthy leathery breeze.
Back at the manor house the horses are taken care of and the hunter asks to join the traditional hunt and a small refreshment on the pasture in front of the manor house. The stew is traditionally eaten outside in riding clothes. It dawns, and the spices of the wine join the smell of the horse and the woody cabochard on my neck. The atmosphere outside at dusk is relaxed and the first dances in riding clothes are performed, the atmosphere at the campfire is joyful and the long lasting smell from the house of Gres can be experienced without any problems. Even when I take off my riding boots at night when I bend down, a woody breeze swings up to me, now also delicately flowery, and I think with a soulful smile - WHAT A SUNDAY.
Rarely has a fragrance evoked such a strong association in me, strong and natural, durable and so highly recognizable. I think this classic is the founder of my love for Chypres.
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Behmi
