A Cup of Tea Large Enough
“The pleasure of novelty is by its very nature more subject than any other to the laws of diminishing returns,” wrote C.S. Lewis. While I have found Lewis to be right about so many things, he is wrong here inasmuch as tea is concerned. The chance to try a new tea is always welcome and thus far, I have not felt a decrease in pleasure derived. Rooibos, however, can’t be called a tea per se unless you abide by the all too broad definition of tea as anything steeped in hot water. With rooibos, the Afrikaans word for ‘red bush,’ you won’t even be steeping leaves, rather small needles. It really is a great low maintenance option and caffeine-free to boot. If you find yourself characterized by the adjective scatterbrained (tea translation: high probability of forgetting to keep an eye on the steeping time), this would be a suitable choice.
Reflected on the surface of the rooibos is the sprawling oak in my neighbor’s backyard, under whose shade I sit contentedly and sip. There is a certain majesty and romanticism to the scene, in particular when dusk rolls around and the oak is backlit by the setting sun. It is the type of backdrop that encourages one to sit and be still. And in that stillness, you will notice things that otherwise would just pass by without registering.
In outlining his ideal daily routine, Lewis stated “Tea should be taken in solitude” and immediately after a walk “not later than a quarter past four.” On solitude and the general time frame—five to five thirty is still acceptable in my book—we are in agreement. Our straying thoughts, ever keen to be anything but in repose, and the noise of conversation, blots out what nature offers. Tea for one then, is the ideal number.
Once the cup and saucer are in hand, it’s as though a switch is flipped to still previously turbulent waters, allowing all the riled up sediment to naturally fall to the bottom, leaving pristine waters above. Just as we so often see but do not observe, so do we hear but not listen.
The earth is still warm from the daytime sun. Unmated male mourning doves coo from atop the oak branches. Brief digression: these graceful and lean, beige doves (nothing like those scruffy urban pigeons) are the most killed game animal in the US with more than 20 million killed each year. And they eat the seeds of weeds! With the dove calls vibrating in your cochlea, you inhale and the rich aroma of vanilla and the sweet wind of the western cape of South Africa (where rooibos is grown) warms your nostrils.
Brewing a different “tea” presents an opportunity to try out different wares. Yay. This is Benjarong ceramic, a highly detailed painted porcelain introduced by the Chinese to the Kingdom of Siam (modern day Thailand) during the Ming Dynasty. Up until the 18th century, it was reserved for use by Thai royalty and a few aristocrats/well-connected merchants. It wasn’t until the reign of the recently deceased and dearly beloved, Rama IV, that those of plainer means had access to benjarong.