I have a camera-shy youngun' who loves me enough to smile for a photographer.
The Best Christmas Present Ever
Chef Boy ‘R Mine
A cup o’bloomin’ tea.
Tea can provoke a need for candlelight.
My family are not tea drinkers. We had iced tea (no sugar – sweet tea was for communists), but we weren’t hot tea drinkers. Oh sure, the parents would let me order tea when I was 8, but they thought I just wanted it for the little silver pot. I did, but I also enjoyed the tea.
I got introduced to “Russian Tea” when I was 14. It was a dark black tea with cloves, dried oranges, cinnamon, star anise and something else. It was the first tea I ever had that was supposed to be lumpy and leave dregs. I’ve searched multiple states and multiple countries for it with no luck. Just last Christmas I found a reasonable substitute at a bookstore – Harney & Sons Hot Cinnamon Spice (with orange and cloves). It’s a lovely tea and I’ve grown fond of it.
The well-used kettle.
I’m an unrepentant coffee drinker. Folks are astonished at the amount of coffee I drink. I’ve been told I’d fit right in at an AA meeting. I drink a pot of coffee before I even leave the house in the morning and another throughout the day. During the day, I’ll often also brew green tea. Or chamomile. Sometimes an Oolong.
I enjoy the ritual of tea – the boiling, the steeping, the pouring, and the accoutrements.
Oolong.
I like trying to “read the leaves.” I stir and watch the steam swirl. I deeply inhale the fragrance. Coffee is gulped, tea is savored.
I drink my coffee black except for the very rare occasion I have dessert – in which case heavy cream is required. But tea – now tea positively requires additives mostly because of tea sets – you have to put something in all those containers and if you’re going to put something in there then you have to use it.
The very-special English teacup.
I love tea sets and tea pots and tea cups. Coffee is everyday – utilitarian. Well, mostly it is. Sometimes coffee is just a caffeine delivery system and sometimes it is a spiritual experience. Tea, however, always provokes ritual. Sugar cubes, creamer, lemon, honey, Demerara sugar, spoons, tongs, pots, trays, kettles, shortbread cookies, and comfortable rockers.
Tea is not a beverage, it’s a mind/body experience.
The even more special dragon cup (and tea service).
I like a little Mozart with my tea.
My teapot collection, while not large, is diverse. Some of it is very formal even if I do almost always drink tea in faded jeans. The tea cup collection is far more sparse. I vow, now and again, to get more, but I’m usually overwhelmed by the choices.
Tea is almost always enjoyed in well-faded jeans.
Lipton’s black tea is fine. Cheap herbals are fine. Luscious imported teas, delicate whites, organic herbals and the like are, of course, much more appreciated. I love to hold the cup close to my face and breathe in the steam and aroma.
A couple of years ago I discovered in a magazine the “blooming teas.” These immediately rushed to the top of my “must have” list. Showing restraint, I did not order them and when Chef Boy ‘R Mine asked what I wanted for Christmas, I told him. My restraint centered on the fact that without the special teapot, the wonder of blooming tea is not fully realized.
Blooming tea.
Blooming teas are hand-tied bulbs of tea and other botanicals including dried flowers. When the boiling water is added, the bulbs “bloom” and one ends up with a floral arrangement in their teapot. It doesn’t get much cooler than this.
Said tea requires a glass teapot and a tea candle so that the blooming tea is visible. Brewing this tea is most spectacular in a dark room. The blooming teas are almost always one of the white teas; hence the tea is an amber color. With the tea candle shining upwards through the bottom of the pot, the view of the blooms is wondrous – a Monet water lily with a golden cast. The ritual of tea takes on a whole new facet with these bulbs.
Tea often demands a good book, an afghan and a comfortable Victorian rocking chair.
Still, I like the old standbys. Oolong is a favorite because it has the same mouth feel as coffee. The cinnamon/clove/orange tea is great heavily sweetened and drunk on a cold winter night. Chamomile is spectacular with honey and lemon.
When in England in 1998, I learned to drink tea with cream. I was in a little tea shop complete with white table cloths and a platter of “biscuits.” The tea was served with cream and sugar. When in Rome and all that. It was quite lovely and there are some days I just I have to have tea prepared that way along with some Walker shortbread cookies.
My 13th birthday china.
It’s always been interesting to me how and why we acquire the habits we have. I’m not sure why I’m so entranced with tea, but I suspect it’s the cups and teapots. I have more dishes than any one person can justify, because I love dishes. Now there’s a habit I can’t begin to explain – fine china, hand-turned pottery, hollow-stem champagne flutes, sushi plates, whimsical turkey soup bowls – you name it, I have it.
Tea is ritual – it’s the very epitome of right here right now. It slows me down, centers and grounds me. It’s a lovely respite from real life.
[If you’re into tea and ever in the D.C. area, don’t miss Ching Ching Cha’s – it’s a Chinese tea house that will, I promise, rock your world.]
The Land of Bad Dreams
bad dreams live in Michigan
Way back when, Chef Boy ‘R Mine had a nightmare. I slept through his screaming (I’m a sound sleeper), but Ex O’Mine ran in at the very first of the blood-curdling scream. Soothing the child (he was and is a very good father), he told the boy that he’d chased the bad dream away back to the Land of Bad Dreams. The child asked where that was. Groggy and put on the spot, the ex said the first thing that popped into his head – “Michigan. Michigan is where bad dreams live.”
[Now. The boy was confused because I always told him the bad dreams were caused by using the wrong side of the pillow. We then made quite a to-do of turning the pillow over, smoothing it, and peeking under it to check for certain that we had the right side down.]
Michigan may have popped into the ex’s head because my parents were setting out in a couple of days to visit the extended family. When Child O’Mine heard later, he was appalled – he decidedly did not want his cherished grandparents near the Land of Bad Dreams. My father had to do a lot of fancy talking to ease the child’s mind.
Michigan has, forever since, been re-dubbed the Land of Bad Dreams notwithstanding the fact that almost all of my extended family live there.
The whole thing was doubly poignant (and kind of funny) because both parents had some horrendous childhood experiences in Michigan. The sweetness of my son’s concerns softened their bad dreams a bit.
Neither my son nor I have nightmares often. I do, however, have a recurring dream that’s eerie. I don’t wake scared – more puzzled. I’ve been having this dream since I was about 13. If memory serves, the first time was during my first menstrual period. [The women amongst us (and some of the men) know that menses can provoke all sorts of psycho-drama.]
Moody Blues
I don’t have it often, but once a year or so, I will dream of the white house. In my dream, I’m wearing a long flowing nightgown – white- suitable for the cover of a romance novel. I’m in a shabby cottage. Everything is white. The linoleum is white, the walls, the appliances, the curtains, the doors, the woodwork and the fireplace mantle. The only thing not white is a poster hanging above the fireplace. The poster changes through the years. At 13, I think it was a Moody Blues album cover – In Search of the Lost Chord. Later, it was Mary Lou Retton. Most recently, it was Van Gogh’s Starry Night.
The dream never lasts long. I’m in the house. I waft from room to room. I always have a sense of puzzlement – of what I don’t know. The lack of furniture? The unrelenting white? The poster? The cracked and scarred linoleum?
The Pier
After exploring the house, I open the front door to find that it leads directly to a pier – a very long pier. There’s no porch or walkway to the pier. The pier is the porch. It’s gray and foggy outside. The sky and water are so gray it’s impossible to distinguish one from the other. The fog has settled in and the beige of the sand is completely obscured. I walk to the end of the pier for what seems miles. During the walk, I watch my bare feet carefully negotiate the pier. The pier is ancient and splintering.
At the end, I look into the water and notice sunlight dapples. I look up to find the fog has lifted and the sun has come out. I look to the left and I look to the right and for miles and miles all I see are identical houses with identical piers.
The dream always ends there.
I have analyzed this dream from every angle. Not a clue. If my psyche is trying to tell me something, it needs to start speaking a language I can understand.
I went to Michigan this week to attend my grandmother’s funeral.
rocks, sand, autumn leaves
We stayed in a charming motel on a lake – a delightful mom & pop place. I scoped out the scenery as soon as we checked in, but the purpose of the trip precluded my itch to grab the camera and go play.
This morning I woke up at dawn. Quickly slipping into jeans and a sweatshirt while grabbing the camera, I quietly opened the sliding glass doors and walked through the early morning drizzle and fog to the lake.
There was the pier.
the white pier
In my dream, the pier had always been weathered, gray wood. I now know that was wrong.
The pier is white – in keeping with the house. I think my psyche didn’t know there were white piers.
I shivered.
I hurried to the pier. My sleepy self was convinced if I stood on that pier, I would understand.
I stood on the pier. I sat on the pier. I took off my shoes and put my feet in the freezing water. I let the rain sluice over my head. I watched the wind ripple on the water and enjoyed the scent of early morning pines.
beach rocks
I took photos. Dozens. I sat in a chair and stared at the pier, the lake, the trees, the falling leaves. I fell a little bit in love with Michigan.
I still don’t have a flippin’ clue what the dream is about. But I expect to have it tonight.
I still think the dream takes place on the Atlantic ocean, but a Land of Bad Dreams pier is going to change the tableau. Lord only knows what the poster will be tonight – I was admiring a Georgia O’Keefe at a bookstore today.
And all of this reminds me of one of my all-time favorite quotes: If little else, the brain is an educational toy. (Tom Robbins).
I need more time at this pier. I think the red hammock will entice HMOkeefe. (He likes hammocks.)
red hammock at dawn
And I did fall a tiny bit in love with Michigan – the Land of Bad Dreams – the memories of my childhood and the beauty of this morning’s scenery contributing. And that motel was just too charming. Yes, I need to go back and spend more time on that pier.
I have got to unlock this dream which I just know I will have tonight.
Over the Top Award
I have been remiss in fulfilling my obligations for the Over the Top Award. My reasons are three-fold: (1) I am so very behind in my blog reading; and (2) many of the folks I would give the award to already have it; and, (3) of those who don’t, narrowing things down to just six people means I would have to leave someone out which seems such a junior-high-clique-ish thing to do.
What I would prefer to do, and what I’m going to do, is run through my newly cleaned up blog list and mention what it is I find so fascinating about each. Each and every one deserves the award. Alphabetically:
Blind Pig & the Acorn If nothing else, the music that plays when you hit the link is worth the click. I’m passionate about the celebration of Appalachian heritage and this blog is Over the Top in that respect.
And then there’s Cosanostradamus over at Blog Me No Blogs. He’s completely Over the Top. Writing on a variety of subjects with a decided left-leaning slant, I am appreciative of his commitment to honoring bloggers through his Cosie Awards. He’s definitely worth a visit.
Of course, there’s the incomparable, amazing, and scintillating Buzzardbilly who gave me this award to pass on. I am so enamored of her blog, that I’ve proposed marriage. BB also celebrates the Appalachian heritage, but her real forte is ranting and raving about the negative imposition of the hillbilly stereotype. Recently, she’s been writing a lot about music which is important to her soul. I miss her scathing analyses of the evil done to us by folks’ insistence on applying sweeping, untrue generalizations to all the individuals of this region – some of us who wear the hillbilly label proudly.
Chickens in the Road is another celebration of our traditional life. At this moment, Suzanne is writing about cast iron. If I were going to pick a symbol for Appalachian resiliency, it would be cast iron. We are forged in fire, seasoned after years of hard work, and worth our weight in gold.
Alex over at Clicks and Pops writes about music. Developing an album addiction as a young man, Alex is good for writing about the trivia and features of the music many of us grew up with (and love still). His knowledge about the music, the artists, and their accompanying zeitgeist is deep and wide ( my lame attempt at a musical pun) – not to mention Over the Top.
Creating Utopia also welcomes you with music and the best of Appalachia. This blog details efforts at horse rescue. It can be heart-breaking, but more often it’s inspiring. So many creatures are mistreated and it’s satisfying to see them thrive with love and attention. While horse rescue is the specialty, lots of other animals are presented. I’ve wanted a horse for a long time and someday I will have one. I’ve now decided that when I can accommodate such, the horse needs to be a rescue – thanks to this blog.
Esse Diem is a blog like mine – a little of this and a little of that. Living in West Virginia, she reminds me a little of my younger self. I wish she’d post more often, but then some people say that about me. Dynamic women have busy lives.
Evil Twin’s Wife over at The Glamorous Life of a Hausfrau lives not too far from me, but we’ve never met. As the title indicates, she’s a “housewife” that details her daily life as wife and mother. She occasionally talks about the multiple sclerosis that doesn’t slow her down a bit.
Garden Rant is a must-read for gardeners. Focusing on sustainable gardening, it also features real gardens – not the overly manicured, chemically-ridden “perfect” vistas we so much of on the web and in magazines. Be sure to read the manifesto.
Granny Sue is a storyteller in the Appalachian tradition and shares her experiences living here and loving here. While her prose is wonderful, I particularly like her photo-essays. Her gardens, her critters, and her sense of humor are a good way to start my morning.
I don’t know what to say about Huh? The Blonde Goddess is Confused. I’m not sure if Buzzard Billy or The Blonde Goddess is more Over the Top. Both are outrageous and apt to say something that provokes the spewing of beverages all over the computer screen.
Incurable Logophilia is a must read for those of us with an abiding love of books (and words). I don’t get over there as much as I should and I regret that.
Janis over Juanuchis’ Way irritates me to no end. She really, really must (and I mean it) write more often. If I ever get to meet her, I’m going to flog her for not writing.
Jamie’s Life’s a Feast blog is a food-lover’s paradise. If you wander over there, be prepared for luscious photographs and mouth-watering descriptions of food, with an emphasis on baking. Also, be prepared for some fine story-telling.
Possum Lane at My Little Corner of the World is another diverse blog about daily life. Currently, she’s talking about the gifts in her life. This too is a blog I don’t read as often as I should. Shame on me.
O>w/hole>1 defies description. He specializes in concise comments and links. With a wry humor and soupcon of sarcasm, he’ll take you all over the web.
Rick Lee’s photo blog is a visual delight. I’m particularly fond of his Thursday night produce shopping photos. How he can take the mundane and make it seem extraordinary is a great gift. Right now he has cauliflower and other vegetable wonders.
Sagacious Hillbilly is another blogger that defies description. He’s so Over the Top I don’t know where to begin. I can’t decide if his blog is more outrageous or his comments on my blog. Currently, he’s suggesting I photograph myself in boots and a garter belt and post it. [Ummmm, no.]
Six Forty-Five is the blog I set up for my Chef Boy’R Mine’s 24th birthday. I’m thinking if I give him an award, he’ll post more often. He has a gift for words and he’s living an extraordinary life. He needs to share it – at least with me – through a blog with lots of pictures – dammit!
speak You’re bRanes features commentary on actual comments made on the web. It’s hilarious and soooooo Over the Top. Really, trust me, this will make you laugh until you cry – unless you’re stunned by the militant ignorance sweeping the world.
Unclutterer is a minimalist, de-junk and streamline your life blog. I find it to be inspiring in my continued quest to pare down my stuff to only that which I love. In fact, it’s the site that got me started and keeps me motivated.
Vera’s Weblog is a nice read about self-sufficient living in Minnesota. Vera is a German transplant and has an interesting perspective about life in the states. She, too, doesn’t post as often as I’d like.
Verbotomy is a word lover’s paradise – especially if you love coining new words and defining them. This blog is also good for the first chuckle of the day.
Jim over at Wabi-Sabi is a colleague and his blog focuses on politics and his family life. I love, absolutely love, how much he loves being a dad, a husband, and a progressive.
And so, these are my nominations for the Over the Top Award. Those of you willing to pass it on, feel free to grab it and wear the award proudly on your site. I hate the “grab-if-you-want-it” bestowing of awards, but, truthfully, I can’t pick just six and I’m only doing it this way because I can’t make you accept and follow the rules of acceptance.
Really, these are my favorites and I do a lot of blog surfing. Enjoy! And thank-you, Buzzardbilly, for the Over the Top Award. I love, and appreciate, any and all recognition for my attempts at sharing my life.
W. Va. Fur and Root 