When the hyacinths were at their peak, I had enough flowers to make a dry enfleurage of Ethiopian Commiphora myrrha resin. Just as it seemed intuitively appropriate to pair the sunny brightness of frankincense with that of grapefruit blossoms, there was something about the contrast between the cave-like depth and catacomb-like mustiness of myrrh with the energy of a spring bulb flower. It smells like such a strong metaphor for spring's deep spiritual meaning rebirth, that is so strongly apparent in the natural world.
In winter, the bulbs are dormant in the ground. In spring they spring forth with a life force and push through the frozen earth towards the sun. Yet, I had an anterior motive for doing so. I made this very special incense as a spirit medicine for a young mother I know, who lost her baby only a few days after giving birth to her. The immense joy at the end of a difficult labour, the hope and happiness of becoming parents for just a few days all cut off so abruptly inspired me to create this incense medicine, as a reminder that even from the depth of myrrh's deathly grip one can emerge with a renewed life and bloom again like the hyacinth.