Tea time

There is nothing that takes away the sting of winter than a warm cup of tea, though hot chocolate is a close second, especially when made slowly by scratch on the stove. Yet there is something about the lightness of tea, the barely-there-ness of its taste, that balances the harshness of winter: wind that sneaks through gortex and fleece and down all the same; dry skin that cracks and opens and leaves a nagging pain despite the Norwegian formula-lotions, udder cream, even olive oil treatments; the pile of snowpants, boots, gloves, hats, neck warmers, scarves that collects at the bottom of the stairs (and the ensuing ripe odor that the pile leaves behind if not ushered off to the dryer right away); and the dark afternoons that seem to creep up just after lunch. A cup of tea, timed just right, can ease the elements.

Yesterday I stopped over at a friend's house who, along with her sister, makes cakes and bottles of soap and sends the profits to a local housing advocacy group and to the East Asia Institute, the organization started by Greg Mortenson, author of Three Cups of Tea. I could have guessed from her website the scents of each variety, but she lives just down the block so I went to take a sniff before buying gifts for all the amazing women in our life. Of course she offered tea, and of course I accepted. Baby Koen snuggled and nursed while I let my to-do list slide to the afternoon and we all drank tea. I walked home with warmth: Koen under my jacket in his carrier, lightly scented soaps in my bag, and a cup of tea inside me.

At school, the boys have tea with their morning snack. They drink it out of earthenware cups and light a candle on the table. Dietrich isn't a hearty eater at school, though he does try everything, but he always drinks the tea. I can picture it calming him from the inside, out and preparing him for his outdoor adventures, his favorite part of the day. When the afternoon begins to drag on, I know that suggesting a cup of tea brings us all to the kitchen, gets us to sit down, and lets us regroup for the evening ahead. Its not that our tea times erase the hectic scramble of dinner-clean up-bath-bed, but as with the elements outside, it eases it somewhat.

And now the wimpers of that warm baby call, but maybe I will make myself some tea.