La Befana

Feared and mocked and beloved like every other woman, La Befana adjusts the woolen scarf tied too tight under her chin as she makes her way through the Italian countryside on Epiphany night. Only good children await her visits for the rest of the night, thank goodness. With each step through the snow, roses and blue tansies bloom in her wake, crystallizing the instant they meet the freezing air. Blue tansy and frozen rose petals open the composition with a cool, herbal brightness and a delicate, icy floral edge.

Incense and snowfall rise at the heart, the heady smoke of her own fireplace drifting through the cold, quiet air. The base is woolen, soft and enveloping like the scarf pulled close, leaving a warm, textured trail. She rustles her knapsack, feeling the weight of the candies yet to be given, and lets a single powdery sugar drop dissolve slowly on her tongue, a reward for a night's work well done.