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Green Market

At the weekend market the farmers fill their stalls with green smells, earthy and extraordinary fruit and vegetables piled in a riot of color and shape. Open jam jars whisper sweet nothings as you stroll by; massed bunches of flowers tumble their delicate scents into the air. Everything is green and fresh and hurrahing in harvest.


Poem by Rawaan Alkhatib

The Scent

A recent stroll through a Sunday market, with the scents of green produce. From bunches smells of herbs, to aromatic fruits, and the light stems and petals of fresh cut flowers.

Perfect for kitchens, window-sills, and for pretending to have a private garden.

Includes the following key notes:



Memories

"On the weekend I get up early to go and see the local produce at the farmer's market. I love to see what's in season. Throughout the year the colors, and scents change with the season."

"There's a florist at the local market who sells just iris. They're exquisite. If you buy one, he spends a minute or two delicately wrapping it up before presenting you with the precious stem. It's such a treat."

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