The sun burned through the low clouds as I sipped my tea. Our garden is full of winter birds: a pair of cardinals peeping to each other, one in the serviceberry and the other in the holly near our kitchen door; sparrows swooping in and out of the Norway maple; mourning doves grooming themselves in the dogwood branches. The ground is soggy and the grasses droop from all the rain yesterday.
Squirrels chased each other across the leaves as I sipped two bowls of Puerh tea, stroking the smooth ribs of my teabowl.
Squirrels chased each other across the leaves as I sipped two bowls of Puerh tea, stroking the smooth ribs of my teabowl.
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