Pursuit Of Spark

The cries of the cicadas mixed with the clank of nearby construction and the growl of the garbage truck as I sipped my tea in the cool dappled shade of my garden.

Chose a vivid green matcha to celebrate the leaves.

The oakleaf hydrangea has grown so large that I had to cut some back this morning to reveal the path, which was my good fortune because the delicate panicles were exquisite to study as I sipped my tea.

The indefatigable mockingbird kept me company all through tea, never once repeating its comical calls (and hardly ever stopping for breath!). The patio stones were cool under my bare feet, sun warm on my face, the texture of the Jack Troy teabowl lovely to touch. The kamairicha was just the right mix of bitter and sweet, and the delicious scent of Korean Spice Viburnum wafted through the garden. A tea for all the senses.

The snow is receding and the birds are gathering. Sipped oolong tea and delighted in the changes.

Chose a small ‘three sip’ teacup this morning and was captivated by how the blue glaze revealed a spiral of pinches. The birds chattered, a train whistle moaned, planes crisscrossed overhead. I sipped my Puerh tea, grateful for how it opened my eyes.

After so many gray mornings the sun was glorious, illuminating the golden oolong tea. A fuzzy maple blossom had fallen so I picked it up and added it to my tea tray. Listened to the chickadees and cardinals and the occasional passing airplane.

I think a hawk may have been hovering nearby when I stepped out to the porch for tea, it was so quiet. Then a mourning dove gave a few cries to my right, a squirrel complained to my left, and now the sparrows are noisily arguing. I sipped Puerh tea from a porcelain yunomi heavily painted with cobalt carbonate until it is almost black and looked up at the maple branches covered in fuzzy blooms.

Watched a chickadee hop its way up the honey locust, looking for bugs in the crenellated, lichen covered bark. It was joined by another, and then I spied a mourning dove higher up sitting placidly on a branch with its feathers puffed out. A second mourning dove joined it, and then two robins alighted in branches further down, the first robins I have seen. So much life in the branches of a single tree. The birds and the tea pulled me out of the gloomy mood that had settled on me this morning, and I feel fortified to go meet the day.

First cup, listened to the juncos as they whirred and chirped, more like R2D2 or Morse code than birdsong. Second cup, crows and a flock of geese overhead, the oolong tea the same lovely color as a fallen Japanese maple leaf. Third cup, tears fell again for the dead and welled up for the brave teenagers who are leading us towards change.

Listened to the sparrows and a lone chickadee, the wind chimes, a flock of geese flying north overhead. Sky a solid gray, warmer this morning. Instead of waking me up this morning I found that the Puerh tea sent me deeper into mourning yesterday’s losses.

New birdsong this morning, a crazy mixup of melody and shrill thrrrrps. I think it was just a single bird somewhere in the budding silver maple branches that kept up its song through three cups of tea.

The shino glaze complimented the rich puerh tea, which reflected the cloudy sky.

Blue-gray teabowl, gray-blue sky. Sipped the earthy Puerh tea and looked for early signs of spring in the garden.

Snowflakes on my black coat, bright red beak against the cardinal's muted feathers, hot tea.

After yesterday’s rain, what captivated me this morning was how the sunlight played on the grasses, sparkled on the frost, and lit up the inside of my teabowl after I had finished my tea.

The latest tea arrived yesterday from Global Tea Hut and I was so happy to steep it this morning. A shou puerh from the late ‘90’s - as old as my children! - and so delicious, bright red in the sunshine, and in my beautiful Jack Troy teabowl the rich tea reflected fast moving clouds.

Ground frozen under my feet, sun warm on my face. The grass seedheads glowed and even deep within the shadowed tangle of leaves I glimpsed tiny bright patches of sunlight.

Even on this gray day the Puerh tea pulled in the light and glowed red as it steeped. False sunflowers are wearing little snow caps, so lovely against the black of the wet street.

Gray yunomi big enough for a whole pot of tea, embellished with clouds, on a rainy morning listening to sparrows and cardinals and highway nearby.