Of all the hot beverages out there, I think tea is the one I’m least fanatic about, but certainly not because it isn’t well-deserved. Tea, especially of the barley, millet, or corn husk variety, was so comfortably in the background whilst growing up in a Korean household, that I never gave it much thought. A huge pot of it was always ready for us to have either cold or hot, largely unnoticed unless it was empty.
I suppose that’s why I will rarely buy tea like I buy a cappuccino or a cocktail – I prefer sipping my tea in the calm of home, during breakfast, after dinner, or in the afternoon lull. I by no means meticulously brew my tea, but coming home with this lovely mélange of colors and smells from the apothecary (yes, apothecary – this one.) made me think a bit harder on the art of steeping tea.
There are grand metaphors of making tea that is related to life and living in a variety of ways, I’m sure, but one that feels particularly relevant is the beauty of letting new flavors unfurl in completely different temperatures. Meaning: seeing the beauty that comes from being thrust into new environments, and enjoying the changes. I hope to live with great intention in the midst of all this transition, and watching and waiting for my tea to properly steep is helping me slow down and make each step judiciously.
Utter sidenote: these photos were taken with my iPhone and that’s pretty crazy.