Hurray! It’s National Coffee Day!

Today is National Coffee Day.  For me this is a high holiday.  I’m always tempted to decorate and make a luscious meal with wine that I can finish off with a robust cup of coffee – maybe with cream.  I generally drink, well always drink, my coffee black.  My father looked askance at me when I put cream in my coffee as if I was committing some crime.  Marines drink their coffee black.  None of this frou frou cream stuff.  After a grand dinner, however, I like the richness of cream in a really good roast of coffee not just for the taste of it, but the mouth feel and texture.  It becomes like liquid velvet. 

I drink Folgers coffee in the morning.  I do like a mild blend first thing in the morning, but it is one of my goals to be able to afford fresh ground Tanzanian Peaberry for my a.m. indulgence.  And indulgence it would be.  I think it reasonable to say that Tanzanian Peaberry is the nectar of the gods.  In my more hedonistic days, I used to buy a bag a month from a small coffee roaster in Milwaukee who was thrilled to ship it to me.  For a price. I’ve learned in life that you can have anything you want – for a price. 

But the immediate goal is to persevere with writing until it becomes a monetarily successive gig.  I’ve progressed from hobby writer to writer writer, but I’m still seldom a paid writer.  Don’t laugh, but I’ll probably celebrate my first book sale with a fine cup of coffee.  

Taped to the refrigerator, I have a quote by me: Sometimes coffee is a religious experience and others it’s just a caffeine delivery system.   

I once scribbled that in a notebook.  I said it to a few friends and one asked if she could quote me.  Flattered, I said, “Of course.”  I tried to meme it a few years ago, but alas it did not go viral.  I really do feel that way about coffee.  Folgers in the morning is a caffeine delivery system.  A robust blend with cream after fine dining is a religious experience. 

Whatever your preference – coffee, tea, hot cider or something else – please enjoy it today on this National Coffee Day in solidarity with me.  I swear, I can’t believe I don’t at least have a t-shirt for this holiday.  I have been remiss and shall remedy that later today! 

Maggie and I

maggie and the flowers
Maggie and the flowers.

The white garden is an amalgam of Zen meets Western excess. 

Morning coffee today was a sitting meditation. I feel renewed and centered which was my goal for the garden.

White gardens are known for projecting a sense of tranquility and quiet. Even though I scattered more blue and purple throughout than I had planned on, the effect is still the same.

Already, it feels like an oasis of peace.

Maggie joined me, choosing to sit near the petunias in silent meditation. She and I both lifted our faces to early sun and enjoyed the slight zephyr of late spring.  The scent of the garden encouraged deep breaths and breathe deeply, she and I did. 

While sometimes coffee is just a caffeine delivery system, other times it is spiritual experience. Today was such a day. The warmth of the cup, the wafting steam, and the soothing taste were exquisite. 

Geranium curves.
Geranium curves.

Maggie’s languid movements and obvious contentment were behaviors to emulate.  My behavior soon mirrored hers.

The breeze wasn’t enough to persuade the wind chimes, but their copper glinted in the sun. The grass was dew drenched, the flowers slowly opened, and bees droned.

Already, this little sanctuary of mine feels like an oasis of peace.

The shades of green are soothing whether it be the silvery-gray of dusty miller, the bright green of creeping phlox, the deep green of the roses or the bluish hue of the moss. The white blossoms glow in early dawn and at dusk – floral candlelight. The blues and purple bring out the shades of white.  I am pleased.

moss on the old tree
Moss on the old oak.

I had worried, a tiny bit, that when realized this new garden would be boring in its lack of color. Instead, it is all texture and shape, lines and curves, gentle arcs and points of light. 

There is a great density and variety of plants that belie the spare focus of true Zen, but I’m a woman raised in a Western tradition that adopts only those aspects that feel comfortable.  When the plants fill out, spread, and bloom there will be masses of each blending into one another.  The result will be a uniformity of diversity. 

I’m happy that my goals are unfolding in the way I had hoped, even if my plans change with the discovery of each new plant. There is still a great amount to do, but all things in time.  I’m right here, right now and it’s a good place to be.