Cedar Atlas Première Note 2014

Green shimmering sharpness settles on the tongue, while a hesperidic breeze
gently brushes the face with a refreshing touch. The sour-juicy breeze sweeps through coniferous pine woods, causing trunks and branches to tremble, until the scent of needles descends to the forest floor. The nostrils quiver as they sense the approaching darkness of the woods.
Step by step forward, softly cushioned on the damp, soft mossy ground, whose mist hovers ghost-like between the leather-clad tree trunks.
Softly, cardamom rains down from the sky, as if camphor trees stood among the cedars, already finely distilled in ethereal spice lakes. Just a small leap, and the body - or is it the spirit - is immersed in the deep dark green sea of moss, shrub greens, bundles of needles, with a log drifting by here and there. Body and spirit drift along, gliding in harmony through the sea of cedars.
The lingering twilight is too dark for flowers and blossoms, which appear only like a mirage, nonexistent and unreal, in the ground mist. No scent escapes from them; they shimmer ghost-like before the eye, only to vanish again, airless and scentless.
Sharp needles in the earthy, clammy forest floor make walking difficult, disappearing under a carpet of warm dark suede, as if one continued to walk over the soft, rich moss. Seamless velvetiness in nose-pleasing harmony leads ever deeper into the sea of the forest, until there is tranquility within.
Bitter, how bitter this walk tastes, and yet so soothingly green and pleasantly dark, that the nose wanders for a long time on velvety earthy scent paths, lined with leather-clad cedars, cushioned with moss and caressed by balsamic-woody breezes, while the spirit has long since found rest in fern-woven dreams.