A time when the chill of Winter lingers like curls of smoke in the night air. The electricity of a low, full moon, it’s light sharp as shattered glass piercing the dark between forest canopies. Ice drips from thin branches as twigs snap underfoot. The unmistakable scent of woodland, deep and rich with life and secrets. A blend of Oakmoss, Black Spruce, forests after nightfall. A howl sounds above it all – this is a Wolf Moon.