During an unseasonably cool start to September, my home’s thermostat read 60 degrees. Being morally and fiscally unwilling to turn the furnace on at such an early date, I darted from room to room gathering bits of warmth in an attempt to distract from the bracing cold. My wool knits prematurely ended their hibernation, but layering wasn’t enough to keep from shivering during zoom meetings. It was then I remembered a bag of loose tea shoved towards the back of my cupboard.
Fisherman’s Blend, a mahogany black tea from our local shop Tea Source, offered the feeling of a thick wool sweater but for the insides. I chose my favorite mug, chipped but reassuring, to take the chill off. Opening the bag I was met with the fragrance of damp woodfire smoke. “No milk needed for this brew”, I thought. A kettle whistle and deep inhale later, I was gazing through ice-crusted windows on a high up lighthouse, waves crashing against a grey North Shore below. The first sip, gently thawing. A mugful, the corporal fortification needed to brace against the chill of morning. I was ready to head into the gales of November, when I remembered its only just September…and my team is waiting for me to start the zoom call.
