Two heaping spoonsful of Baba Yaga's blend (lapsang souchong/assam/keemun) into the chipped glass teapot
Water boiled to 212F, poured onto the leaves
Tea infused for as long as it takes me to make the first circuit around the front garden, noting any deer activity from the previous night
Tea poured off into my favorite matcha style mug, adding a spoonful of honey and a bit of half and half (this is a daily indulgence for which I'll not apologize)
Anticipating that first sip, to see how close to perfection the day's brew has come (if it's on the nose, an audible "ahhhhh" might be heard coming from my lips)
And then I sit, or walk among the plants, thinking about the day ahead, or people I love, or art I want to make, consuming the nectar that is my morning ritual. It's not complex, nor is it overtly spiritual, but it feeds my spirit nonetheless.
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