Tea Tins and Ritual

 
I’ve been lucky this week. I picked just the right day to ride along to Portland with my husband. I spent the day basking in 60 degree sunlight, wandering the bookstores and picking up fantastic thrift-store necessities. My favorites by far are the tea tins - a set of three, made in England, and just the right sizes to house my coffee and two best beloved (after Weekend Morning) teas. I have a basic, organic Irish Breakfast tea in the smallest tin, and will very soon have Simpson and Vail’s Smokey Siberian in the mid-sized tin. I can’t wait. I haven’t actually had my Siberian tea in years, but it’s left such a mark on my mind I can’t forget the late-night taste of it.

The tea tins are in a way, representative of my renewed commitment to ritual and beauty. Like the life I’m trying to build, they’re beautiful, orderly, and simple. They store things that would otherwise mess up my shelves. And they’re beautiful..I’ve been trying to do things gradually - I don’t like to be gradual, I like to jump into things with so much enthusiasm. But my enthusiasm is hard to maintain, and when I’m too eager, I cut out things I should have kept, and keep things I should cut. Just as I do in my writing. So I’m slowing down, settling into rituals, welcoming the silence and the imperfection that comes with reflection. I’ve spent the morning cutting out the unbeautiful: words, phrases, dust, and junk; drinking tea with scones and cream; stoking the stove against the wind and cold. Our warm days are done, the windchill is bitter and the sunlight can only warm the soul, not the air.

On the advice of some friends, I’m planning to delve into my writing by posting poems here more often. Open and ready for critique. My hope is that it will encourage more dedication to the improvement of my craft. I’m also removing myself from the internet on the weekends to welcome in the peace of those days and nurture my little family more with my full presence. I love the new goals that come with each new year, especially those that slowly reveal themselves. The wind is loud now, a Friday wind, full struggle and anticipation. Yarrow is napping under blankets on the bed and I have a stack of poems to prepare for new eyes. Enjoy the weekend.

Tea Retreat

Jenna and I are retreating from our discussion for the season. We have plans to pick it up - less often and refreshed, after Christmas. For the rest of this month, I’m pursuing other projects. Christmas is fast approaching - I have a little dress to make, presents to wrap, pork to collect from the butcher, and so many winter plans to bring to fruition. We have an icy layer of snow on the ground, it’s a loud walking under the stars, when everything else is silent.

I’m planning my own retreat from Cyganeria for a week or so, because our last discussion of the distractions inherent in our technological world has reminded me of my own tendency to become absorbed in the world online. So I’ll be writing more, praying more, reading more, and putting my snow-covered yard in order this week, all while hopefully building those daily habits of beauty that I so desire to make a part of every moment.

 

Enjoy a week of tea and reflection, with a good book or two, and some homemade croissants. A delightful accompaniment to snowy afternoon reading is a drink called London Fog: early grey tea, steamed milk (or light cream) and just a hint of vanilla (I like tossing half a vanilla bean in the milk as it heats on the stove). It’s lovely with croissants, or Russian tea cakes (if you don’t put any sugar in your tea).