Tincturing Meyer Lemons, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Citrus is not widely associated with autumn. Except for the Etrog fruit, being a symbolic fruit during Sukkot, a Jewish fall harvest holiday. For me personally, growing in the land of citrus groves, autumn is the season of the return of citrus: the first tangerines, usually unripe, or at least green from the outside even if already juicy and sweet on the interior, are packed for the 10 o'clock snack during recess when the school begins, and the fine mist of the essential oil exploding out of the peel fills the classrooms for a refreshing aroma. It blends quite well with the cedar pencil shaving and new books' smell, come to think of it...

And of course, Etrog has a really special scent, and at times, the fruit will be brought to school for students to study and explore in the early fall. The citrus scents somehow become part of the smells of excitement: new beginnings, transition, new schools, new friends, new teachers, new backpacks (which quickly become contaminated with the stale odour of citrus fruit that was forgotten in the back for the entire week). And for me personally - another scent-memory was added to fall: the birth of my daughter (she will turn 14 years old this October!). When creating her namesake Tamya perfume, which commemorated a magic moment after her arrival back home from the hospital. It was just before sunset in the fall, and everything had that golden glow of a soft autumn sun, shining through olive groves, new wild wheat-grass after the first rain. I used yuzu, a rare Japanese citron essential oil, to give the perfume its uber-citrusy and fruity pizazz, reminiscent of the first autumn fruit that I'm so fond of.

Meyer lemons are strange fruit, as their name and shape is deceiving: their outer peel is the most fragrant and is reminiscent of yellow mandarins or the first tangerines that I've mentioned earlier. It is really quite heavenly experience to zest or peel this deep yellow fruit!

The pulp, however, takes a disappointing turn. I cannot for the life of me figure out how to use my Meyer lemons after I've peeled them off... They are too sweet for a salad dressing (though can be used in a pinch...) and a little too bland to be eaten as they are. I'm wondering if their personality might shine the most in a marmalade. but having lost the zest, I probably can't use them for that at this point... I'm sure they are full of vitamin C though, so I promise they won't got to waste. However, if you have a good Meyer lemon recipe or idea, I'd be thrilled to hear.

In the meantime, I'm grateful to have a scent that vaguely reminds me of the early tangerines in our family orchard. And I'm really looking forward to finalizing my New Orleans perfume using this precious tincture, which will be ready in exactly 3 days. So stay tuned...

DSC04027.JPG, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

October's arrival hasn't diminished my desire to immerse my body in the cold Pacific ocean. On the contrary. Swimming in those salty glacier waters seems to be my connection to both the inner and outer world. The chill of the water is felt in every inch of my skin, each one of them sending a screeching signal to my brain that I’m alive and breathing. I admit, that under 15 degrees Celsius it becomes very painful, but not any less worth it. And the sensation of coming out of the ocean, after struggling for some 10-15 minutes to maintain a healthy body temperature, is like a lesson in the laws of relativity – the air always feels so much warmer… But still not warm enough to not warrant a very hot bath as soon as possible.

October 1^st was so warm and dry (relatively speaking, of course) I nearly got a sunstroke… And of course, I had to go to the beach. I went swimming as usual, pretending I’m on the white sandy beaches of Tel Aviv, and that nothing could be more natural than going for a swim. It felt quite normal. Sunsent Beach café was open as usual, serving their usual array of British Columbian beach food. Some people on beach blankets and lawn chairs chatting and reading a magazine. Even the water was pretty normal summer temperature (16 Celsius, that is…). So in I go and breathe in the coldish air floating just above the water, smelling of salt, seaweed, fish, perhaps a little boat engine oil too. I’m almost convinced this Indian Summer is a real summer when it hits me: a smoldering, thick and sweet smoke of burning leaves. A little like Choya Loban, come to think of it. I’m swimming and marveling at this strange scent combination: ocean and burning leaves. Cold air and warm smoke. Wow.