Top Five Friday: June is National Iced Tea Month!

There are few hours in life more agreeable
than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea. 
~ Henry James

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une is National Iced Tea Month. (Ahh, the bizarre information a writer finds when searching for topics!)  This makes me happy, not just because I am a Southerner who loves her sweet tea, but because I am a writer always in search of ideas.  Not just any writer, but an ADD, big-picture, iNtuitive Feeler creative, who needs things like deadlines, post-its, fascinating people, and themes to help me stay focused and productive.

I do this with copious amounts of tea.

And single malt scotch.  But that is a post for another day!

So in honor of National Iced Tea Month, the next four Fridays (computer crashed last Friday ~ mea culpa!) I will be highlighting tea: hot, iced, with friends, alone, at home and in various tea rooms in the Washington, DC area.  Without further ado, today I give you my top five black teas.

Lapsang Souchong

According to Wikipedia, Lapsang Souchong is the oldest black tea, predating Keemun tea, which is a black tea that was first produced in 1875.  Is it not to everyone’s liking ~ the smoky taste reminds me of a sooty fireplace.  But fireplaces have a romantic appeal for me, so memory, imagination, and taste buds all blend together in a beautiful polyphony when I brew a pot of Lapsang Souchong.

Earl Grey

Call me a tea traditionalist, but the Earl always makes it on my list.  The birth of this famous tea is disputed; however, the name comes from the 2nd Earl Grey, the British PM in the 1830s.  There is also a heavenly variation called crème de la Earl Grey, which I buy at one of two local tea shops.

Spiced Chai

Not all teas are meant to be iced, but an iced chai goes very well with summer picnics, although not necessarily with bar-b-que (unless it were curried bar-b-que ~ hmmm). 

Angel’s Dream

I didn’t know of anyone who sold this tea except my local tea shop, Tea Thyme and What Nots.  And then I found it at The English Store (naturally)! It is one of the most aromatic and relaxing black teas I have ever tasted.  Goes well with home-made shortbread.

Pumpkin Spice

I know it’s June and we’re a long way off from Fall.  But this is a list of my top five black teas, so Pumpkin Spice must to be here.  Very good with pumpkin pie, pumpkin custard, pumpkin soup, pumpkin bread, pumpkin…oh I’m sorry I started to drool and zone out there. 

Did I mention how much I like pumpkin?

Now I'm off to make some proper sweet tea. . . .and find the used rototiller of my dreams.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

What are some of your favorite black teas and where do you buy them?

 

The Discovery of Awe

He who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead; his eyes are closed.

~ Albert Einstein

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 esterday,  I stood gazing up at the sky with about a thousand other people on the National Mall, waiting for a glimpse of the Discovery.  It was a perfect day ~ sun-drenched, temperatures in the low 70s, and a flirty breeze.  I walked around with my smarty-pants phone at the ready, talking to chatty strangers and an occasional co-worker.  We were all excited, wondering when and where the shuttle would appear, and whether we would be able to see it without binoculars.



And then someone shouted, “There it is!”  And we turned as one towards the Washington Monument and saw it ~ this giant 747 with Discovery riding on its back like a large bug.  It quickly disappeared behind the trees; some people started running towards the Smithsonian Hirshorn Museum to see if they could catch another glimpse; others looked a little confused and disappointed. What that it?  That’s as much as we’re going to see?



The Discovery shuttle flies over Washington, DC (C) 2012, M D'Eigh



The seers in the group [those with short wave radios, or WTOP playing on their phones] assured us that it was just flying over National Harbor and would be back.  To just be patient.  Wait for it. It would appear again.



And then there it was ~ flying over the Capitol rotunda, over the White House, and back around the Washington Monument and over the Hirshorn.  It made this circle three times.  And each time, I snapped blindly away, the sun was in my eyes.  As well as tears.  Because Discovery was saying goodbye. 

And I hate goodbyes.

But the tears were also because of awe.  Awe that we, mankind, had gazed at the stars for a long time, and dreamed of reaching them.  And then we did.  How amazing is that?!  We imagined what it would be like and then we did it.

Last Saturday, I attended a lecture co-hosted by The Saint Cecilia Group and the John Paul II Fellowship.  It was the first in a series of talks that explores the relationship between art and faith.

During Saturday’s lecture titled The Healing Power of Art: The Role of Art in Reaching the Wounded, Dr. Andre Leyva, the President of Montgomery Clinical Services in Gaithersburg, Maryland, mentioned that we have become immune to beauty, even blind to it.  We walk around with our heads bent over our smarty-pants phones, and never see the beauty that surrounds us. 

We are unmoved.

And thinking about the exhilarating rush of seeing the Discovery fly overhead, the tears stinging my eyes as its retirement brought to mind loved ones who were also growing older, I wondered. Is it really as bad as that?  Have the majority of us lost the ability to lost our breath at brilliant sunrise or sunset?  Do we no longer feel anything when a parade goes by?  Does the thought of a Puccini opera make our eyes glaze over?

Have we forgotten how to be in awe?

There is no doubt that a crisis is brewing.  Certainly, it is a challenge to reach a generation who has never known what is like to live without the constant hum of technology. 

But standing amidst that crowd of excited Discovery watchers, and seeing all the subsequent Facebook statuses and tweets about it, I have reason to hope.  Yes, we had our smarty-pants phones out, but it was because we were aware of being part of something historic.  Something amazing.  Something awe-inspiring.

Beauty is not dead yet, and neither is our sensitivity to her.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

Did you see Discovery with your own eyes yesterday?  How did it make you feel?  Do you think it is more difficult to be sensitive to beauty with all the technology we have?  Or does the technology put us more in touch with beauty?

Responding to Ill-Mannered Boors

The everyday kindnesses of the back roads
more than makes up for the acts of greed in the headlines.
~ Charles Kuralt

Today, on the commute in to work, I saw witnessed two gentlemen [out of thirty men, sigh] offer their seats on the train to ladies standing in the aisle. I wanted to thank them even though I was not one of the ladies needing a seat. It was a great way to start the day with exampled of manly courtesy ~ because the day ended less than stellar. A man who I thought was a friend ~ albeit a casual one ~ said something to me that went so beyond the bounds of decency that I could only ignore him in shocked silence.

Perhaps, dear reader, you are tired of reading my complaints about our insufferable and ill-mannered society. At the same time, something must be done about this epidemic of ill-mannered boorishness!

Now, some of you will ask me why I did not slap my so-called friend. Saying nothing was actually a step up for me. Sad to say, I am not perfect in this regard ~ actually I am not perfect in most regards! At times, when confronted with rude remarks spoken either in front of me or to me, I have responded in an equally most ill-bred manner. There is of course, a time and a place to fight fire with fire. But when one returns a rude remark to a boor with another rude remark, it is safe to say that he will only continue to respond in kind. Furthermore, he will usually take vicious delight in escalating the situation, until one’s esteem lies in shreds around one’s pretty little ankles and later, in the privacy of one’s boudoir, to tears. [This is so much worse for us INFPs/ENFPs.]

However, dear reader, you are correct ~ one cannot just let such rudeness continue unchecked and unaddressed. So what is a civilized person to do? I am beginning to believe that the obvious must be stated. “Please do not say such uncouth and disrespectful things to me. I find it degrading and hurtful. Thank you.” I need to practice saying this in the privacy of home, because I would much rather grit my teeth and call into question his upbringing. I can hear my Southern mother saying: “His mama didn’t raise him right!” And it is certainly possible she did not, or it could be that the son refused to listen.

Whether this ladylike retort will have any effect on this particular boor, I know not. But I am convinced that refusing to stoop to a boor’s level keeps up at least a modicum of decency and civility. As they say: “Fake it until you make it!” Continued civility can only eventually beget civility.

What do you think? How have you handled rude remarks made about you, or in front of you about other people?

Hope you have a beautiful [and genteel] rest of the week!

Oremus pro invicem,
~ Mikaela

Love Is Kind

Don’t flatter yourself that friendship authorizes you to say disagreeable things to your intimates. The nearer you come into relation with a person, the more necessary do tact and courtesy become.
~ Oliver Wendall Holmes

Common courtesy is not so common anymore. The little polite phrases most of us were taught as children have all but disappeared from our daily conversations and interactions. Why have we stopped being polite to one another? I have addressed this topic before ~ focusing more on courtesy to strangers; now I wish to bring it a little closer to home and discuss proper behaviour towards loved ones.

One would think that such a discussion would not be needed; treating loved ones well seems so obvious. Sadly, such is not the case. Recently, this was brought home to me as I was the recipient on two separate occasions of very wounding and outright rude comments made to me by people I trusted. And while being on this side of the curtain now, I am sure that being a fallen human being, I have likewise said rude and hurtful things to friends and loved ones in the past as well.

Why do we do this? Now, one could posit that I was hurt because the words were spoken by those whose affection and good opinion I desire ~ the heart feels safe in the presence of loved ones and so does not protect itself as it does with strangers. While there is truth to that, in both these cases, the hurtful words I experienced no lady or gentleman would ever speak to anyone, let alone a dear friend or potential girlfriend. They are things that just are not said in polite company. Again, why do we do this? Does familiarity truly breed contempt?

Or perhaps, as Oliver Wendall Holmes points out, we somehow feel justified in “speaking our minds.” Things may be topsy-turvy these days, but I am pretty sure imprudent speech is still a vice and not a virtue. It is one thing to take a loved one aside and caution them about some potentially dangerous behavior [and even then, such ‘fraternal correction’ should be done with love, humility, tact and kindness]. It is quite another to make rude comments about their person, appearance, character and otherwise treat them as a comfortable old shoe. And old shoe you step on and throw into the corner after a long day. We should never be that comfortable with a loved one. If we would never think of saying X to a stranger lest we give offense, how much more careful should we be with the vulnerability of our loved ones, who have trusted us and let us in where no other may enter, save perhaps God.

Society today so abhors formality ~ but formality and courtesy are not the same thing. One can be exceedingly formal and still ride roughshod over everyone’s feelings. A friend once remarked that he was fine with throwing out archaic rules of etiquette as long as new ones were created in their place. Our society did one without doing the other and culture has suffered as a consequence. Courtesy oils the wheels of daily life. It is difficult enough as it is ~ we go about our day battered by bosses, co-workers, and obliviously rude strangers on the train. At the very least, we should expect a little more kindness and warmth from our loved ones.

So the next time you feel the need to “speak honestly” to someone in a way that would be hurtful and pointless, don't.

Oremus pro invicem,
~ Mikaela

Stopping to Smell the Earl Grey

The atmosphere of home beats almost any other place.
~ Alexandra Stoddard

Sometimes you just need a slow morning. I needed one today. This morning, I woke up in plenty of time to catch the bus downtown, but all of a sudden I did not feel so well. So I called in and told them I would be in later. Then I promptly crawled back beneath the counterpane and snoozed for another solid forty-five minutes. I woke up refreshed and feeling a little better, made myself a cup of Earl Grey with local honey and fresh squeezed lemon juice. It was glorious.

Even better, I was able to indulge in the slower pace without guilt. There was nothing pressing at the office ~ everyone who usually needs me is away at a conference. I brought my little plaid tea cup upstairs to my cozy boudoir with its warm and cheery cranberry walls [don't let anyone tell you you can't paint your bedroom red ~ it is fabulous!], lit a deliciously scented candle and sat down to catch up on my personal coorespondance. When I was ready to head in, I felt better not only physically, but mentally, emotionally and spiritually as well. And it showed as I smiled more readily and greeted strangers I met in the bus, the train and on the street.

Granted not every morning can be spent in such a leisurely fashion. Or can it? Is it possible to excuse oneself from the insanity that passes for living these days? How does one deal with the million and one duties that claim our attention and make a slower lifestyle seem like an unattainable dream? Becuase you and I may be forced by current economics to live somewhere other than a bucolic small town, but that does not mean we cannot live like we do. For the past seven years, I bought into the smoke and mirros lifestyle that is part and parcel of the Washington area. But no more!

So, how do we slow things down? Perhaps it means rising a little earlier than usual [O! Perish the thought!] in order to relax with a cup of tea and your coorespondance. Maybe there is an hour or two in the evenings when you can make an appointment with yourself, close the door and do something creative, or take a bubble bath or read a book of Keats' poetry or do nothing at all! Personally, I am not at my best before nine in the morning. But after nine-thirty in the evening, I light a couple of candles, put Pandora on either my Josh Groban or Frank Sinatra station and read, write letters, work on poetry or a new song. I am always amazed at the energy and healing that takes place when you just slow things down to a more normal speed.

Because I assure you, my dear readers, that the current pace we are living cannot be sustained without some insanity creeping in. It is not normal and it is not healthy. And it does not have to be that way ~ no matter where we live.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

With Silver Bells and Cockle Shells...and Wrens?

The best gardening books should be written by those...
who still feel awe at the miracle which follows
the setting of a geranium cutting in its appointed loam.
~ Beverley Nichols

La Belle's Garden went in on Memorial Day. Glorious! And already, the radishes have sprouted, along with one row of swiss chard, arugula and three rows of green beans. The sugar snaps have yet to put in an appearance, but hope springs eternal. It must. The sage is practically the overlord, rosemary his queen and Prince Oregano holding his own between them. However, with eight healthy and viral tomatoes growing like weeds on the other end, we shall see where the balance of power ends up. ;)

Forced abed the past two days with a very inconvenient case of strep, I managed to stumble out of bed this evening and visit the garden and give it a good shower. And lo, I had a visitor. The most curious and brave little bird I have seen in many years. He kept walking a little closer on his tiny little bird legs, then he would cock an eye and peer at me, and then fly to the other side of the yard and sit on top of the fence peering at me some more. I am not sure what he thought of me, but I think he liked the fact that I was wetting the dirt and driving out some worms. At least I hope so. I did tell him he could eat any bugs he found, just no seeds.

He looked sort of like this little guy:

Although he was a little more bluish-grey on top of his head. My neighbor thought I was out of my mind, chirping and talking to my tiny visitor. But said he would only get really worried if the bird began answering me. Why, that would be like living in the Wind in the Willows ~ how marvelous!

Alas, my wee friend flew away after I admonished him about eating any seeds. I think he was either offended, or very sly and just waited until I put away my watering accoutrements and came inside. I do hope he returns. He was very friendly sort of chap and quiet. Just the sort one likes to have with one while puttering in one's garden. ;-)

Oremus pro invicem,

~Mikaela