The rocky coast was abandoned by all the summer lovers, and we sat amongst the stones and listened to the water play on the rough shores. The sound of the moving waves and the sound of the pouring tea became a duet of the same body. The steam from our teacups became ballerinas in the air, holding true to the dancing leaves within the pot. As the late autumn sun began to descend, the weight of winter winds pushed it quickly to the mountains on the horizon. The full moon rose to say goodnight and our tea quickly became chilled and sweet under its harvest-yellow blanket.
Winter is here. The time when tea outside becomes something extra special. The movement of the steam, the gift of warmth, the silence of the landscape... it all comes together to shed a certain kind of focus on the leaves and the liquor within the cup.
Happy Winter, Northlands.