The linden/lime/tilia season here in Sussex is in full bloom.
Lindfield, a very pretty village just north of Brighton has an abundance of lime/linden trees, the name Lindfield reportedly means open land with lime trees.
Yesterday, the tentative sun and a strident breeze combined creating beautiful dappled sunlight patterns through the leaves of Lindfield’s giant Lindens. I sat under the tallest enjoying this sensory delight, warmth from the dancing sunlight, rustling leaves on low trailing, blossom laden branches skimming against the still damp earth. Surrounded by buzzing bumble bees sucking up the sweet honeyed nectar, I relax immersed in the intense and heady smell of the blossom. Imagine the smell of a cucumber sandwich made on thickly buttered sweet brioche bread, immersed in honey and beeswax with a sprinkle of honeysuckle flowers on top.
This time last year I was working on a linden blossom accord, by the time I’d finished the blossoms were over and my reference point was just a memory.
Yesterday I compared my accord to the smell around me and to quote the Spice Girls, two became one, I couldn’t be happier it smells just as good as the real thing.
I’ll make it into a Chypre perfume by adding oakmoss, patchouli, labdanum and bergamot. I could also use it as a Soliflore or push it in the gourmand direction, which would you prefer?
Confusingly, linden, lime and tilia are used interchangeably especially in perfumery.
To clarify, Linden and Lime are both common names of Tilia, a genus of about 30 species of trees or bushes, native throughout most of the temperate Northern Hemisphere.
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