Long dark teatime of the soul
This entry shares a title with a Douglas Adams book, but there the allusion ends.
I awoke early this morning, and unable to return to sleep, I decided to start the day. I made some green tea, brought my book, tea pot, mug, and sweater and settled in the comfy reading chair by the easternmost window. No natural light illuminated the sky; the blue blackness of night disturbed by the yellow glare of electric light.
More than an hour has passed, seeming longer due to the slow quiet progress of dawn, still yet to occur. A hint of brightening just barely begins; the sky turns from inky black to deep grey blue.
I sit, a cat perched an purring on my lap, looking occasionally out the window as I sip my tea and revel in the slow, quiet, beautiful moment.
A long, dark tea time of the soul - full of peace, and beauty, and subtle wonder. Not a bad thing at all.
I awoke early this morning, and unable to return to sleep, I decided to start the day. I made some green tea, brought my book, tea pot, mug, and sweater and settled in the comfy reading chair by the easternmost window. No natural light illuminated the sky; the blue blackness of night disturbed by the yellow glare of electric light.
More than an hour has passed, seeming longer due to the slow quiet progress of dawn, still yet to occur. A hint of brightening just barely begins; the sky turns from inky black to deep grey blue.
I sit, a cat perched an purring on my lap, looking occasionally out the window as I sip my tea and revel in the slow, quiet, beautiful moment.
A long, dark tea time of the soul - full of peace, and beauty, and subtle wonder. Not a bad thing at all.
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