Pursuit Of Spark

August evening chorus by Pursuit of Spark

Tea in the garden engaged all my senses this morning. Perhaps make a cup for yourself and listen with me?

The birds were singing their winter songs this morning. My tea tray was a symphony of green.

A mourning dove was sitting on my bench when I stepped into the garden for tea, and flew away at the sight of me with nervous chirrups. The air was cold but the sunshine was warm, and my tea was the same lovely red-brown of the oak leaves lit up by the sunlight.

I pondered the mock orange seedpods as I had my tea on this cold wet morning. They're spiky and beautiful in their severity, and made me think of the flowers spilling over the porch rail last spring.

The inflorescences of the ornamental grasses captured the bright winter sunlight and held it so they glowed in the wind. I held my teabowl in gloved hands, absorbing the warmth on this cold morning.

The tea was deep red in my teabowl, and then glancing again I could see the tips of the Japanese maple and a glimpse of blue sky. It’s cold and very still this morning, just the cardinals and sparrows calling to each other and the distant sound of a street being dug up. Two bowls of Elevation Red tea warmed by the sunshine. #teameditation #morningritual #reflections #pinchpot #teabowl #tealife #teatime #cha Elevation Red #tea from @globalteahut

The sun burned through the low clouds as I sipped my tea. Our garden is full of winter birds: a pair of cardinals peeping to each other, one in the serviceberry and the other in the holly near our kitchen door; sparrows swooping in and out of the Norway maple; mourning doves grooming themselves in the dogwood branches. The ground is soggy and the grasses droop from all the rain yesterday. Squirrels chased each other across the leaves as I sipped two bowls of Puerh tea, stroking the smooth ribs of my teabowl.

Perched on the edge of my chair to avoid the snow collected at the back for two bowls of tea. The lawn looked like a platter that had been glazed with white, then strewn with leaves, then glazed again, then sprinkled with more leaves. The zinnia in my vase offered more surprises - petals that have turned from orange to pink and now to yellow. Listened to a nearby snowblower wheeze to life as the sun came out.

I know where the squirrel is making its nest. I watched it nibble still-green leaves off the tips of the branches and stuff them in its mouth, clamber up to a huge silver maple limb and disappear inside, quickly emerging to do it all again. Two bowls of kamairicha tea, surprised that the orange zinnia is turning hot pink at the tips as it fades. . . . #teameditation #morningritual #squirrel #gettingreadyforwinter #zinnia #kamairicha #tea

Steady rain this morning. Chose my favorite rainy day teabowl by Sammy Chung, with clouds incised in wisps of white slip. Today what I fell in love with was the foot of the bowl, tall enough to protect my hand from the hot tea and deliciously rough to the touch because the dark clay is full of grog (which spellcheck wanted to write as frog, but that is completely ridiculous). What delighted me was the contrast - under the gray celadon glaze the body of the bowl is so smooth, and then, surprise, my fingers encounter the grit of the raw clay foot. A couple of sparrows searches under the false sunflowers for dropped seeds, chirping and jostling the long stems which made the seedheads dance in the rain.

Chilly this morning so we moved our tea to the middle of the garden, our backs to the grasses, a perfect spot to feel the sun on our faces and see the light streaming through the spice viburnum leaves. Three bowls of kamairicha tea listening to the wind in the leaves that are still hanging on.

On my chair I found four leaves, one green, one blushing, one brown, one skeletal. I placed them on my tea tray and mediated on their beauty because each one is beautiful, even the one that has almost completely faded away. Took my time with tea this morning after a long week, five bowls of sencha, the first bright green but a little bitter because I was impatient and the water was a little too hot, the later bowls milder. Listened to the robins try out new wavery waltzes and workmen a few houses away. Felt the cool air and the warm tea and the beauty of the world right now in all its contradictions.

Two bowls of Evening Sky red tea this morning. I loved sipping from the thick-walled teabowl, which allowed just the right amount of heat to reach my hands. I made the bowl but others glazed and fired it in @watershedceramics’ wood fire kiln, and I thought about the care they took to finish my work, and the power of community to make something beautiful. After waking up early and anxious about the state of our country, tea and this bowl gave me hope again. . . . #teameditation #morningritual #inthistogether #woodfire #jacktroy #workshop #community #Puerh #tea from @globalteahut

The red dogwood leaves I noticed earlier this week have almost all fallen off. The zinnias in the vase on my tea tray are fading. I sipped bright green sencha and listened to the light rain and the crickets, taking in the changes all around me.

A flock of leaf blowers across the street made it a little hard to meditate this morning. But I was grateful for the warmth of the tea in my cloud yunomi.

Late morning tea. The sun illuminated the dogwood leaves from a different angle. As we sipped our kamairicha from beautiful teabowls I brought home from Japan half my life ago, we watched small clouds form in the blue sky.

The yellow ray florets of the false sunflowers have almost all gone, revealing a half sphere of tiny disk florets which will soon turn to seeds, to the delight of the goldfinches. Sipped my kamairicha tea, a weak echo of the golden flowers, and thought about the worlds within worlds that we have the chance to pay attention to when more flashy things have fallen away. . . . #teameditation #morningritual #falsesunflower #goldfinch #kamairicha #tea

Bright yellow pollen on my shirt and scarf from the sunflowers in my vase, a pale bug with red eyes on a ragged, lichen covered piece of bark next to my tea tray. The new growth on the oakleaf hydrangea is a beautiful color I can’t describe. Sipped my sencha and listened to the crickets, power tools, and wind in the leaves on this cool gray morning.

Our little cherry tree lost all its leaves to a blight this summer, yet is offering a sign of hope for a recovery by pushing out new leaves at the tips of its branches in September.