Vivacité(s) de Bach Les Fleurs de Bach

In our region in the northwest of Baden-Württemberg, called Kraichgau, there are - unfortunately fewer and fewer - characteristic floodplain forests: light young trees, poplars, ashes, beeches; shrubs like juniper, occasionally deadly nightshade, and a typical ground vegetation with wood anemones, sweet woodruff, meadow foam, primroses, wild violets, and oneberry. Often, dead wood remains lying and rots. In early spring, we march there and search for morels, that is, mushrooms. Strolling through the shady forest, especially in the rain and when it is foggy, at dawn or dusk, with suddenly jumping deer and fluttering snipe, creates a special, slightly gloomy, exciting atmosphere in minor tones, quiet yet powerful. And it smells wonderful.
“Vivacité(s) de Bach” feels like an abstraction of such a walk, like the romantic idea of qualities such as herbal and mossy, ferny and watery, woody and earthy, foggy and rainy, diffuse and white, spring-like yet rather gloomy. Nothing and yet everything of it smells of all this; with a quite powerful sillage that makes it more museum-like than wearable. For all its gloom, VdB is a heavily floral, sweet perfume.
Recently, I came across “Breath of God” - a huge thing because of its uniqueness. “Vivacité(s) de Bach” is also such a huge thing - its uniqueness, however, is on a completely different track. There is a kinship - in my perception - nonetheless: Because of that. So “Breath of Pan,” “Breath of Artemis,” or “Breath of Something-Else-Natural-Mystical”?
When I had the not exactly cheap, amusingly natural-history-cabinet-looking bottle sitting around for a while, I came up with the most fitting (albeit somewhat terse-sounding) description yesterday:
Hildegard of Bingen tries her hand at the old “Fahrenheit.”
I like it.