These purple iris flowers are an invasive species that are native to  as seen in Beaver Lake in Stanley Park, Vancouver. They are called Flag Iris (Iris psueudacorus) and also come in a yellow variety. Their rhizomes are not of any value to the fragrance industry but was used medicinally as an emetic, because of its high tannin level. It can be irritating to the skin and have an acrid taste. On the brighter side, it was used to clean water from heavy metals, as the roots has the ability of soaking these up and filter them out so to speak.



These are the flowers of Iris germanica, which along with Iris pallida (AKA Florentine Iris, Sweet Iris or Dalmatian Iris) is a cultivar that is a descendant from the historic Iris mesopotamica which grows in the Middle East (it's a rare flower nowadays, but can be sighted in the Galilee in northern Israel). The flowers too have a wonderful aroma - which I'm surprised does not get featured in fragrances more often: it is buttery and soft, almost like white chocolate. But not yet powdery and dry like the orris butter produced from the root of the same plant.

The dried rhizomes of the wild plant was used historically for perfumes and cosmetic preparations from ancient times, what we now call Orris Root. The ground dried rhizomes were used in powders, and the chopped up roots in sachets and potpourri. Essential oil of the plant are one of the most costly perfume materials, and take 5 years to produce: the first 2 years, the plants are grown undisturbed, to allow them to develop the desired irone, which are responsible for their characteristic aroma. Then the entire field is uprooted, the rhizomes need to be washed and cleaned of all soil and sand, and peeled by hand. They are dried in a shaded area and are left to mature for additional 3 years, after which they will be ground to a powder and then will be steam distilled to produce what is known in the industry as "orris butter" - a buttery, powdery-waxy textured substance that has the scent of Parma violets, carrots and a baby's head and excellent fixative qualities that made it a staple in the European perfumer's organ. It is used in countless high-end fragrances, including all the Guerlain classics, at least in minute quantities in the signature Guerlinade accord, if not in higher doses as is evident in Apres l'Ondee, l'Heure Bleue and Shalimar. I've used it many of my fragrances for Ayala Moriel Parfums, sometimes in minute amount just to create that soft, diffusive, powdery quality, for example in Autumn, Cabaret and Espionage; or to accentuate the violet-like quality I was after, for example in Rainforest and Viola and Indigo. Other times, it can even be the star of the show (even if quite demure) as in Sahleb, which is practically an iris soliflore.



I've decided to experiment with this one piece of Iris germanica rhizome that I found in a neighbouring garden (they were hovering halfway above the ground, so I decided to pluck it away and see how the drying process goes).
First I washed them from all the dirt, using a mushroom brush to scrub it off the hidden places.
Then I used a potato peeler to scrape off the peel. And then I placed them in a dark wooden cabinet for drying and maturing...




A week later, the bottom concave part of of it, which was sitting inside bowl, began developing a bit of mold hairs unfortunatley, so I had to peel that further. I changed its position so that it is as exposed to air and not inside a bowl but directly on the wood. It seems okay now and has dried up quite nicely already (just 16 days in) and has even began to develop a bit of the characteristic orris butter smell. I'm pleasantly surprised so far; and mostly thrilled to have a whole root that I could demonstrate to my students with.

I went for a hike today at Lighthouse Park, and stumbled upon some beautiful white flowers, not all of which were fragrant, but all the same beautiful:

The white lilacs were on the way to the park on Beacon Lane. Crisp looking and befitting a bridal bouquet in appearance alone... Their scent is just a tad cleaner and less sweet than the purple lilac.

Within the park, blooming tall shrubs of what looks like a wild pear judging by the flowers and leaves, but is more likely to be Saskatoon (which will turn into not too small-apple shaped berries later in the summer).

Red elderberry's flowers (aka elderflowers) are described in Plants of Coastal British Columbia as "White to creamy, small, with a strong, unpleasant odour; muberous, in a rounded or pyramidical parasol-like cluster". Admittedly, they did not smell all that bad to me... Not any worse than blackcurrants. But my nose is more tolerant than my taste buds, and I'm still not quite sure if I like elderflower cordial or not.

And last but not least, the pristine lily of the valley blooming by the rocks in the lighthouse keeper's garden. A feast to the senses and a pleasant surprise to find them in the forest by the sea!

This unusual mimosa-like tree on the corner of Haro & Broughton street is in full bloom again. I haven't had a chance to blog about it last year, when its intoxicating and beautiful mimosa scent took me by surprise. I looked up and saw a tree covered with pompoms of pink and yellow acacia stamens. It's very fragrant, with a scent reminiscent of mimosa, honey, wood, pollen in the wind in the heat of Provence, and is very perfumey.

The name of the tree is Albizia julibrissin, and it's also called Persian Silk Tree. It's native to Asia (Iran, East China and Korea) and is from the Albizia family, which is a legume related to mimosa and acacia.