Amidst the absolute chaos of our collective lives here in this moment, the garden somehow still emerges. We put up the greenhouse and start our seeds. The spring ephemerals push up through the soil. We ground ourselves in observing these cycles.

Devoting myself to fussy little flower projects this month. I’ve always meant to make jasmine enfleurage from my little vines…

A month for little creature comforts. I saw the planets all in a line on a clear night above the East Village. I looked after the doves of a neighbor, observed the beginning of ramadan with friends. The lunar new year arrived, the year of the snake.

One of the truest winters we’ve had for a while. This month brought deep cold and plenty of snow. In the morning when I arrive at the studio, it’s only about 40 degrees fahrenheit indoors, our building has so little insulation. I reassemble my thoughts after the holiday rush…

I’m readying all things cozy at the studio as the winter darkness pulls close around us. A time of year for creature comforts, beautiful scents and rituals to buoy the spirit.

Besides the Autumn poets sing,

A few prosaic days

A little this side of the snow

And that side of the Haze -

- Emily Dickinson -

A month of very little rain. I’ve been trying to care for our perennial plants as best I can at the garden these past few weeks, in the hope that they will not be damaged from the stress. As things quiet a bit in the garden, they become more lively in the studio as I prepare for the bustling months ahead.

This month has been truly lovely in the garden, a spacious respite from the heat of summer. I’ve been very busy in the studio, releasing our botanical perfume, TILTH, and sending lots of treats out to our wonderful shop partners across the country.

At any given moment, there are usually dozens of drafts of various projects around the studio. Experimental aromatic tinctures infusing quietly in their jars, perhaps a box full of ten different tiny vials exploring a minute difference in the concentration of a formula.

We are here in the thick of one of the hottest summers I can remember in New York City. The world is on fire in most other ways, too…

A week of sticky heat has finally given way to one breezy day of respite. The garden grows by leaps and bounds as we slide past the year’s longest day.

Rose season begins again. Long the inspiration for so much of my work, this time of year brings with it a very special magic.