Taking Time for Tea
Because that's how we stay sane and humane
The weather man predicts it will be about 90 degrees for the foreseeable future. I am daily thanking God for air conditioning, praying for rain, and eating a lot of watermelon. Summer has arrived in full force, and with it the blessed abundance of both garden and livestock. (Except for the chickens — they’re too hot to lay many eggs these days.)
The tomatoes are ripening into gorgeous orbs of dark pink, fireman red, and sunshine yellow — reminding me I should probably learn how to can them soon. Between my goat and cow I have more milk than I can drink and should probably make the cheese I’ve bought Rennet for. (I’m sure they have YouTube videos on how to do that.) And while I’ve finished the new maternity ward enclosure for our pregnant pig, Ernestine, I think I need to make a few tweaks before she farrows to help prevent her from accidentally lying on the new piglets.
Homesteading involves lists of never-ending projects and skills to cultivate. But even before we moved to the country, life always had a way of becoming busy.
There’s always something to be done. Something to be cleaned. Something to be made. Something to be read. Something to be written. Something to be bought, fixed, or scheduled. It’s tempting to just go, go, go all the time especially in our American achievement culture where overworking is often perceived as a virtue.
This temptation to always go, go, go was exceptionally true after the birth of my first child. I still had one semester of college left, but baby Elijah arrived in the early summer and was THANKFULLY sleeping through the night before fall semester started. (I think I surprised some professors when I showed up post-pregnancy.)
I really wanted to graduate, so I’d signed up for 19 credits. (Don’t be overly impressed; two or three of those credits were just writing my senior thesis paper. And as you know, I love to write!) Thanks to Jason’s wonderful boss who allowed him to do half a day’s work remotely, our daily schedule during the fall looked something like this:
Jason, baby, and I would drive up Lookout Mountain to Covenant College in our stick shift Saturn.
Jason watched the baby and did work on his laptop while I attended morning classes.
I would pump in the women’s restroom to make a bottle for Elijah and hand him off to one of four college student babysitters we’d acquired while Jason biked down Lookout Mountain and pedaled to his office in downtown Chattanooga. Thankfully, two of our babysitters didn’t want any payment at all (I guess they liked babies or something) and the others watched my son in exchange for me doing their laundry (which I was happy to do).
After my afternoon classes, I’d pack up my child and drive down the mountain in our little Saturn, go home, make dinner, and feed my infant and husband.
After Elijah went to sleep, I did lots of homework.
Fall asleep — then repeat.
Needless to say (though I’m gonna say it anyway), that last semester was a bit of a blur. And I certainly did not ace every class. But I did graduate. And the one thing that kept me sane and humane during that busy season was intentional, regular resting through both designating one day a week as my “No Homework Day” and also religiously observing the ritual of tea time.
Now, I had had numerous tea lattes in cardboard cups from coffee shops. At home, I’d often nuke a mug of water in the microwave and add an herbal teabag to it along with copious amounts of sweetener. But until my friend took me to a legit tea room at the age of twenty-two, I’d never had tea from a tea pot before.
Tea from a teapot does not take ninety-seconds. It takes several minutes to heat up oxygen-rich cold water to a boil in a stovetop kettle (or an electric one). Then one needs to pour some of that newly-heated water into a separate tea pot and swirl it around until the pot’s stout body is too hot to touch. This water gets discarded. Then one adds tea bags of dried leaves into the bottom of the pot, pours the rest of the hot water over it, secures the lid, covers the teapot with a tea cozy (an insulated blanket-like covering to keep the tea piping), and then (as in the case of black tea) waits an additional 3-5 minutes for the tea leaves to finish diffusing their lovely flavor.
There are no shortcuts. Skimping on the steeping time results in weak tea.
While waiting for the tea to steep, it’s a good time to gather the other tea accoutrements: tea cups, tea spoons, a creamer of milk, a full sugar bowl (with its own spoon of course), and any tea time goodies such as scones, cake, cookies, cheese, crackers, fruit, or nuts. Finally, when all is ready, one removes the soggy tea bags from the tea pot to keep the tea from getting bitter, replaces the lid and starts pouring. Even then, you’re not ready for tea until everyone imbibing has added their preferred amount of milk and sugar and stirred until the liquid in each cup is a comforting, creamy tone of rich umber.
“My goodness!” you might say. “How can a process which takes so long actually help you rest? Wouldn’t it save time to just nuke the water in the microwave?”
You could. But the tea won’t taste as good. And it’s often the most important aspects of our lives which require the most time to cultivate.
For someone who often feels the “tyranny of the urgent,” making the choice to purposely slow down for a stubbornly un-rushable process can bring a healing cadence to one’s routine. We were never designed to be on the go all the time. And those who try to run without resting often sacrifice their health and relationships.
Tea time provides space in which to reflect and build relationships.
I honestly don’t know what my marriage would look like today without my nightly habit of taking time to process life with my husband over a steaming cuppa — yes, even in the heat of summertime.
Fun fact: black and green tea contain an amino acid (L theanine, I believe) which interacts with the caffeine (which is only about a third of the amount found in coffee) in such a way as to produce a calm body and an active mind. This is why tea is often associated with writers and poets. I’ve probably consumed a small lake’s worth of tea over the years as I’ve conversed with friends and family and worked on my novels.
So while I have manuscripts to edit, skills to hone, children to love, animals to feed, and a house in need of perpetual cleaning, I’d rather pause to put my feet up with a china tea cup than burn out from overworking — especially in the sweltering heat of summer.
Bottoms up!
This is one of the thinks about you that’s so endearing! I tell strangers about your tea habits all the time. I feel a great calm in my aeropress coffee making, including brushing the grounds out of the grinder. There’s something Magic about rituals. I’m so proud of you!
Great work and great reminder!