This morning arrived at 6:40 for me, much to my dismay, for I had planned to sleep in until 8am. I tiptoed around the house, trying not to wake my husband. The thermometer outside the back door read 58 degrees, a welcome respite from the unpleasant early morning heat wave of a couple of weeks ago.
For awhile it seemed only the crickets and I were awake. Street traffic was rare, although the ant highway was bumper to bumper, just crawling along. I put the kettle on then went outside to follow the ants' pathway. What ~were~ they doing so early in the day?
Aha! A cicada carcass was the draw. It was awash in quarter-inch, six-legged demolition crews, each member oblivious to the other and to the human towering above them. The wailing of the tea kettle broke my concentration of the ants' industry, so I withdrew to the kitchen.
After sloshing some of the boiling water around my beloved Brown Betty to warm it, I set the kettle off the heat to cool slightly while I drained the pot and readied my tea. A lush jasmine congou seemed the perfect choice for this cool, dry and slow-paced morn. As soon as the leaves (and blossoms) hit the moist, warm interior of the BB, the scent of jasmine exploded from inside, followed closely by the characteristic aroma of keemun. If the fragrances were this strong coming from an almost dry pot, what must await me when I added the cooling water?
Oh, heavens, what a treat for my nose! Jasmine is one of my favorite flowers, always reminds me of my aunt's garden in New Orleans and the lazy afternoons I spent there as a kid. This morning I am transported by memory and by scent back to Rue Dauphin. For a few seconds I am a care-free girl once more, the last 45 years of my life momentarily lost in jasmine perfume.
I return to the back steps, mug of steaming tea in hand, and settle down to watch jasmine mist rise to greet the day while the ants deconstruct the cicada and the neighborhood stretches and yawns itself awake.
Tea embroiders my life in green and black stitches, decorated here and there with knots of jasmine and osmanthus. I take the pleasures of tea for granted most of the time, like the air I breathe or the water I drink that keeps me alive. It's good to sometimes rise before the rest of the world (ants excluded) and have the quiet to remember why I spend so much time on tea.
Enjoy the day.
Martha snipped-for-privacy@sun-link.com