Training for a Marathon, Building a Brand

There is a lot in motion right now. 

Robyn and I are preparing to launch Osero. Our days are full, though not always in the same ways.

For Robyn, movement might begin with Pilates or strength training before a morning of calls with our creative team. At some point, she will inevitably disappear into the vegetable garden in our backyard to see what has changed since yesterday.

There is usually something. For months, the garden has been giving us more than we know what to do with. Tomatoes still warm from the sun. Herbs cut minutes before dinner. Greens, beans, cucumbers filling the fridge faster than we can eat them. Now the weather is beginning to turn.The mornings are cooler. The light arrives differently. What flourished a few weeks ago needs cutting back; other things are only now coming into their own. The garden asks for a different kind of attention. At the same time, I am training for a marathon. Most mornings, I run before the day begins. Occasionally, I leave it until late at night, which I have come to enjoy just as much. Nothing better than cool air, and musky quiet streets.  There is something useful about being occupied by only one thing. Breath. Footstep. The air against my face. The ocean appearing unexpectedly at the end of a street. Some runs are easy. Some are negotiations from the first handful of kilometres. Eventually, though, the noise tends to recede. We live a short bike ride from the ocean. When the days become too crowded, Robyn and I often end up there. We ride down to watch the last of the light or take the dog for a walk along the water. Sometimes we talk about Osero. (Maybe that's an understatement...We often talk about Osero...)  Sometimes we unplug, though. These small departures have become increasingly important to us. So has coffee.

There are a few places nearby here on Vancouver Island that we return to, bringing in remarkable beans from different parts of the world. Some are floral and almost tea-like. Others taste of citrus, dark chocolate, or something more earthy, floral and difficult to name.

I haven't had an alcoholic drink in almost two years. One unexpected consequence has been a greater appreciation for rituals I might once have overlooked.

Most mornings, I make a pour-over. Grind the beans. Pour. Wait. A few quiet minutes before the day acquires momentum.

Perhaps it is because we have spent so much time developing fragrance, but lately Robyn and I seem to notice more.

Coffee lingering on our hands. Tomato vines in the backyard. Damp soil after rain. The mineral smell of the harbour. Salt in the air on the ride home. Skin after a long run. The particular muskiness of the city when the pavement is wet.

Often, the things that stay with us are the ones we weren't trying to remember. There is an irony in building something for the future while trying to remain attentive to the present. Osero has required both of us to become comfortable with things being unresolved. There are decisions we have made quickly and others we have reconsidered three times. Things we were certain about, then weren't. Things we changed only to eventually return to where we began. We are learning not to rush that part.

A garden can be between seasons.
A body can be in training.
An idea can still be finding its form.
A fragrance can continue to reveal itself.

Not everything unfinished is incomplete.

And, occasionally, something does arrive.

Our packaging has...

For months it existed as measurements, materials, samples and conversations. Now it is sitting in front of us. 

The weight of it. The texture. The complexity and nuance of the aroma. The way the bottle rests in the hand. The density of the mist. That first breath after opening it.

Small details, perhaps.

But Osero has always been about paying attention to small details.

500 units. Limited batch

We are getting close.

-Nate and Robyn