A cup of tea is a particularly joyful thing these days.
I’ve always loved tea to an absurd degree. A beautiful new blend is always my favorite gift to receive.
It’s the ritual that gets me, as much as the actual tea.
The kettle whistling in the early morning, the smell of the tea leaves as they brew, steam wafting above the mug as I read the news and sip slowly because I’m too impatient for it to cool. Earl Grey with milk, a breakfast blend with lemon and honey, or a spicy tisane of herbs. It’s my favorite way to start the day, to calm down after a stressful afternoon, to soothe myself when I’m not feeling my best.
But for the past few months, I haven’t been able to stand the smell or taste of tea.
Blame the baby? Oh, I do.
But all of a sudden, my tea and I have been reunited. The love is back, and I’m so grateful that I’m indulging whenever I can.
Today, it’s blackberry black tea with just a splash of cream while I sort through my afternoon to-do list.
Heavenly.
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