An ode to Tea.
Oh how this is hard for me; to give up tea.
It is not a drink. It's a lifestyle. A ceremony. A life long comfort. It's a communal event. A chat with friends and family. It's an open-ended invitation. It's using the good china passed down from generations. It's hearing my great Aunts and Nanny laugh as tiny silver tongs let sugar cubes escape into the loveliest cups swirling with liquid happiness. It's the demarcation between childhood and girlhood when the first fancy cup is given after all those years playing pretend with a tiny cup set.
It smells like my Mum and Mrs B with a good gab just waiting to burst forth. It is lipstick on napkins. The smell of home baked goods. It's made with care and if it isn't you will be judged. It is not for a microwave or a brewing machine, no. One must bring water to a roiling boil and be ready to pour the instant this happens.
It is gifts. Gifts of flowering tea from the Pixarian on my 40th birthday, because she gets me. It's comfort and joy. It eases whatever ails you in that precise moment. It's the moment one enters a home and says "I'll put the kettle on." It's a reason to stop by and get fresh pastries and tidy up just before a visitor is due. It's a tea visitor. The special kind.
Tea. It is there to wrap yourself around it, to inhale and go ahh.
It is not a drink. It's a lifestyle. A ceremony. A life long comfort. It's a communal event. A chat with friends and family. It's an open-ended invitation. It's using the good china passed down from generations. It's hearing my great Aunts and Nanny laugh as tiny silver tongs let sugar cubes escape into the loveliest cups swirling with liquid happiness. It's the demarcation between childhood and girlhood when the first fancy cup is given after all those years playing pretend with a tiny cup set.
It smells like my Mum and Mrs B with a good gab just waiting to burst forth. It is lipstick on napkins. The smell of home baked goods. It's made with care and if it isn't you will be judged. It is not for a microwave or a brewing machine, no. One must bring water to a roiling boil and be ready to pour the instant this happens.
It is gifts. Gifts of flowering tea from the Pixarian on my 40th birthday, because she gets me. It's comfort and joy. It eases whatever ails you in that precise moment. It's the moment one enters a home and says "I'll put the kettle on." It's a reason to stop by and get fresh pastries and tidy up just before a visitor is due. It's a tea visitor. The special kind.
Tea. It is there to wrap yourself around it, to inhale and go ahh.
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Sue