You could see your breath, a miniature cumulus cloud puffing up magically with every exhale. The grass was frozen, shining silver white blades glistening in the pre dawn light. Crunch, crunch, they sounded underfoot, as hubs and I made our way around the large wooden veranda, sneaking in through the side door careful not to disturb the guests who were still sleeping soundly upstairs.
Two large carafes of fresh tea were waiting, alongside a rustic pitcher of pure well water. Kukicha, the staple we’d been drinking at home for a few years by then, and Roasted Barley, which we had purchased with good intentions but had quickly been pushed to the depths of the cupboard and then forgotten… (until the moths…. glass jars people, glass jars for your dried pantry goods. Trust me).
In hushed tones we spoke, “Which one are you having?”
“Hmmm…. I think I might try the barley tea today!” Hubs whispered, cheeks flushed pink from the frosty temps outside.
“Ooh! Fun choice! I’ll have some too!” And we each filled a steaming cup.
One hand warmed by holding a ceramic mug, the other by our entwined fingers, we crept back outside and sipped our tea, waiting for the first pale golden rays of early spring sunshine to fill the sky. My training at the KI, a whole new career and path of life, was about to begin. Quietly, holding on to time, we savoured our last early morning tea together before hubs made the long drive back home, alone.
It’s always the same- each first sip of a cup of steaming barley tea transports me directly back to that moment. Be it in the middle of the hot, humid summer, or now, the first week of December, with spring’s golden morning light still months away.
