I can’t think of anything else in the world that shares its sumptuous hue…except perhaps the vitrinous waters of a brook lined with bright Zisha clay, the vermillion colors slowly swirling over the vibrant roots of river reeds…
Always changing…no brew has been the same. Watching the honeyed coils of buds melt open in the cup, one witnesses the miracle of late winter’s opening unto spring. The taste bespeaks of the manes of wild horses, dark dens made of willow, and all those grateful moments when one welcomes and greets the warming…
A tea of thanks. I brewed this tea for my mother and I as we celebrated her birthday today.
