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Paperwhite foliage (left) and a fatsia leaf (right) provide a study in contrasts. Design and photo by Nancy Ross Hugo.

Before I introduce you to today’s guest, I wanted to reach into the letter bag and share some of the notes that arrived this week.

Emily Watson, a farmer-florist who owns Stems Cut Flowers in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and a member of Slowflowers.com, writes:

“I have been listening to your podcasts and after every single one I think I should write you a thank you but neither of us has time for that! So here it is one big thank you for all of them. Some weeks I hear pieces of my own story, some weeks inspiration for where I want to go, some weeks I just feel grateful that there are people like you and Kasey Cronquist and the Field to Vase  project making good things happen. At the ASCFG conference that I went to in DC a a few years ago I remember an ice breaker session where you were supposed to tell the people at your table where you though your business would be next year. And at that time I was not even sure that my business was going to be around the following year. I was tired, emotionally, financially, and physically exhausted. After four long growing seasons I started to feel like maybe I should just cut my losses and return to the “normal” workforce. But then I saw things starting to happen on the bigger scale, people bringing awareness to the issues that mattered to me and my business, people connecting the dots for all the small businesses like mine.”

Since then my business has evolved a bit and I am on the verge of another transformation. One that I feel like I will have support for and a community which I can draw on for ideas and information. And you have been a big part of making this happen so thank you very much.”

And here’s one from Tobey Nelson, a floral, wedding & event designer who owns Vases Wild in Langley, Washington, on beautiful Whidbey Island – a wedding destination:

“I have been listening to your podcasts in an OCD fashion lately – love them!  And I really appreciate all the work you are doing for Slow Flowers and (the) American grown (movement). So great. Do you know that just this year we have had three professional flower growers sprout up on Whidbey Island? It makes me happy!”

Thank YOU, Tobey and Emily ~ your encouragement for this endeavor means a lot. It’s easier to promote American grown flowers when I have such talented farmers and florists as my partners!

Anyone listening today knows that flowers can be a huge source of comfort, encouragement, celebration and serenity – depending on the time and place and occasion.

Today’s guest, Nancy Ross Hugo, brings the macro world of nature, landscape, the garden or the flower farm down to the micro world of the windowsill. And in doing so, she offers us a simple ritual, a moment, a meditation on the botanical beauty around us

The author of a new book called “Windowsill Art: Create One-of-a-kind Natural Arrangements to Celebrate the Season,” Nancy writes about gardening, trees, and floral design from her home in Ashland, Virginia and her family’s small farm in Howardsville, Virginia.

Her love of trees has led her to tree habitats all over the world, but her real passion is celebrating the common wildflowers, weeds, trees, and everyday plants that are often overlooked in ordinary backyards.

Naturalist, designer, artist, educator and author Nancy Hugo Ross. Photo (c) Robert Llewellyn

Nancy loves reading old natural history books, writing new ones, and exploring the creative process through flower arranging and nature journaling.

Through nature journaling and blogging about the “windowsill arrangements” she creates every day, she says she keeps her creative muscles exercised, her thoughts straight, and her eyes open to all things wild and wonderful.

Nancy has authored five books and hundreds of articles about nature and the outdoors, She is the former garden columnist for the Richmond Times-Dispatch and education manager at the Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden. She travels the country speaking on the two topics closest to her heart: observing trees carefully and celebrating the seasons through daily, simple flower arranging.

Rustic boxes filled with an immature sunflower head (left) and stacked marigold blossoms (right). Nancy writes: “Marigolds will last longer than you think out of water.”

I met Nancy through St. Lynn’s Press, our shared publisher. It seems that at the same time I was working on Slow Flowers – a book about creating a local and seasonal floral arrangement every week of the year with only what I cut from my own garden or sourced from local flower farmers, Nancy was working on Windowsill Art, engaging in a similar method of marking the seasons in nature with floral arranging.

Violas in stone cube with “gumball.”

The difference is that of simplicity and spontaneity. Nancy’s practice is so “of the moment” and I greatly admire her artistry and approach. You might think a windowsill would constrain the creativity – but that’s anything but the case.

A beet displayed beside a jug of coleus. “I realized I could turn (the beet) upside down and support it on its leaf stems . . . showcasing the part of the beet I like best – its tapering root.”

In May 2011, Nancy began a blog on which she posted a photo of a small flower arrangement (or just a conglomeration of natural materials) every day. Assembled on the windowsill, these simple displays celebrate the seasons and chronicle Nancy’s love affair with local wildflowers, weeds, and garden flowers as well as her discovery of new and exciting ways to display them. They also demonstrate why practicing this easy art form is so valuable as a form of nature journaling and rewarding as a personal creative practice. You can see more than 800 arrangements at windowsillarranging.blogspot.com.

Sweet William, wild mustard, and Chinese temple bell (Moricandia avensis) flowers — in Nancy’s favorite bud vases.

As Nancy points out, almost everyone does it – puts a little something on the windowsill to watch it ripen, root, or just sit there looking pretty. To this gifted woman, the windowsill can serve as a stage for more intentional arranging – a personal, freewheeling kind of art. A catalyst for creativity.

The compound leaves of nandina emerge copper-colored in spring and are arranged here in a row of test tubes.

She writes, “for me, windowsill arranging is almost a spiritual practice. Where I am looking for materials to display and placing them . . . I feel more like a poet placing words in a haiku than a floral designer placing stems in a vase. I love the limited space, the double connection to the outdoors (through the window and my materials), and the structure that repeating the same activity over and over provides.”

Gifts from the kitchen and herb garden compose a lovely still-life on Nancy’s windowsill.

As we enter the more dormant period of the year in our gardens and on our farms, I challenge you to pick up Nancy’s approach to observing nature’s gifts and seeing each pod, branch, stem or vine (or fruits and vegetables) as an artistic element. It may be a gift to give yourself this season.

Thanks for joining today’s conversation. Listeners like you have downloaded the Slow Flowers Podcast more than 23,000 times. If you like what you hear, please consider logging onto Itunes and posting a listener review.

My personal goal is to put more American grown flowers on the table, one vase at a time. I promise that when you tune in next week, you’ll hear another insightful and educational episode of the Slow Flowers Podcast.

The Slow Flowers Podcast is engineered and edited by Andrew Wheatley and Hannah Holtgeerts. Learn more about their work at hhcreates.net.

Note: Many of the supplies Nancy uses can be ordered from The Arranger’s Market: vases, clippers, bottle brushes, and other floral design equipment.

All photos in this post copyrighted to Nancy Ross Hugo, used by permission of St. Lynn’s Press.

I’ve been home for a few weeks from my 11-day road trip that took me by plane to Southern California and back home again behind the wheel of a rental car. I have many fond memories (as well as the photographs that I collected), while stopping along U.S. Hwy. 101 on my way north to Seattle.

So here is a second travelogue, which I think many will enjoy.

I stopped at the home and garden of fellow writer and sweet friend Sharon Lovejoy and her partner in all, Jeff Prostivitch. They live in San Luis Obispo, a stunning area of coastal California, in a cozy bungalow surrounded by an oft-photographed and published garden.

There are several highlights from this short visit that I want to share.

First of all, I got to hold in my hands the advanced readers’ copy of Sharon’s debut novel, Running Out of Night, which will be published in November.

On an earlier visit to Sharon and Jeff’s (I think it was in the fall of 2009), I tagged along with Sharon to a regular session with her writer’s group. This is the small gathering of writers in her area who have faithfully met with one another for years as they’ve read given both encouragement and critiques of each other’s writing projects. It was on that visit that I heard Sharon read aloud one of the chapters of her novel-in-progress. 

So you can only imagine how thrilling it was to sit for a while on the sofa in their living room and read the first few chapters in the REAL book! If you have a young person in your life (ages 7-12), I urge you to order this book or ask your librarian to order it. It is an adventure that involves two young girls who are equally enslaved, despite the difference in their skin color. I thoroughly love the characters, the plot – and the dialogue! Sharon is a masterful storyteller and I can’t wait to get this book into the hands of my niece (a 4th grade teacher) and her students.

A bud vase displays charming nasturtium flowers and foliage, on the edge of the kitchen’s vintage farm sink.

I also experienced a treat that anyone who visits this abode is bound to see. This is the home of gardeners, naturalists and amateur botanists. Every single thing that grows in the Lovejoy-Prostovitch garden is a gift from the earth. And they cherish those gifts with fervor.

The simplest tendril, sprig or pod is elevated with love and affection by Sharon and Jeff. Their home is filled with tiny bouquets and posies. The whole idea of “bringing the garden indoors” takes on new meaning when jam jars, bottles and shot glasses are filled with minature floral arrangements. A delight for the eyes. Here is a peek at some of the ones I noticed (I’m sure there were more!):

Geraniums (pelargoniums) in a bottle; citrus on a cake plate.

The posy by my bedside table. With the sweet William and sprigs of herbs tucked inside, you can only imagine how it scented my dreams that night!

Cheery golden-yellow columbine in the bathroom. Is that parsley as the greenery?

Vases of flowers even appear in the garden, like this display of bird-of-paradise, collected with the potted succulents.

Mr. Owl, with the moon, spotted on that magical night at Old Edna.

That evening, Sharon and Jeff brought me along as their guest to a party given by their friends Aline and Frank.

This lovely couple lives in New England but spends part of the winter months staying in the San Luis Obispo area to be closer to some of their grandchildren.

While they have rented many types of houses for their winter interludes, this year found them settled in at a place outside SLO called Old Edna. 

Sharon promised: “Oh, Deb, you’re going to love it!”

And she was right.

Seen from the back, through the trees, the two-story tin mercantile building, circa 1908.

Old Edna has an amazing history, and I hope to do it justice with this brief summary (please follow all the links to read more). Today, Old Edna is the creation of a dreamy artist named Pattea Torrence.

Pattea’s office, in a charming garden shed on the Old Edna grounds.

Love how an old branch becomes a “trellis” under the eaves.

Sharon and Jeff, both taking photos, at Old Edna. They are standing in front of the original Old Edna cottage.

Pattea has saved this elderly hamlet that time almost forgot, turning it into a destination that includes guest cottage farm stays, wine tasting, special events and more.

In 2000, Pattea and her husband Jeff Kocan purchased the two-acre, 100-year-old townsite with its running creek in Edna Valley (a world-class, wine-producing region) and two-story tin building (once a general store, dance hall and post office, dating back to the turn of the century, 1900).

They have salvaged and restored many of the structures and created a magical place for guests who stay for short or extended periods. There are two guest cottage on site, a three-bedroom Suite Edna and a one-bedroom honeymoon cottage called DeSolina. 

Another stunning sight: Birds in flight, in the sky overhead – a perfect V formation.

Pattea is affectionately known as “The Mayor” of Old Edna. She was a gracious host, although I have to also thank Aline and Frank for their amazing hospitality!

I hope to return and spend more time, but these photos will give you a glimpse of what I experienced. Up next: A visit to The Sun Valley Group, an unforgettable flower farm in Arcata, California.

A lovely table arrangement where the vases seem to blend into the primitive wall mural of Orient, New York . . . as imagined and painted by Skip many years ago.

Last April 2012, I wrote about the beautiful memoir by my late friend Clyde “Skip” Wachsberger.

The book is called Into the Garden With Charles.  It was first published privately by friends of Skip’s (under the guidance of editor and friend Karen Braziller) in December 2010. Farrar, Straus and Giroux published it commercially in early 2012, although Skip did not live to see that event. Read more about the book here.

I have not been able to visit Orient, New York, or see Charles Dean, Skip’s surviving husband, since January 2012, when I traveled there for the memorial service honoring Skip’s life. I love this place and all of the friends I’ve met through these two men. The garden during summertime at Adsworthy, where Skip and Charles made their home, is very special. And for some reason, my trips in recent years were during fall or winter, so I hadn’t toured that verdant place during its peak since 2005 or so. Too long!

Last week I was fortunate to return for a mere 36 hours. It wasn’t nearly enough time, but every moment was filled with wonder, delight, friendship and memories. 

One of the highlights was getting ready for a big, yummy, community dinner prepared by the man Charles has now found to spend his life with. That is Charles’s very personal story to tell, so I won’t say more. I’ll only add that he is now with a dear, charming person and I’m pleased to see Charles so happy.

Skip’s presence is still very much evident in his garden. I was mindful of his exuberant spirit watching over me as I snipped stems, leaves and flowers from uncommon specimens that he originally selected, planted and tended to over the years. The opportunity to create the centerpieces for our wonderful dinner party was all the more special for the connection I felt between those plants and Skip. While the bouquets’ dahlias came from a local flower farm stand and the yellow roses were a gift to Charles from a family friend visiting his sister, artist Frieda Dean, everything else came from Skip’s garden. I relied on his plants for bold and fine foliage, tiny buds, fern fronds and seed heads. Charles supplied the beautiful cut glass urn and two small cream pitchers for the vases. 

Our table sparkled with vintage linens, pottery, silver and stemware. You can see how it looked above.

Here are some more images of the bouquets, in the garden:

A still life with three bouquets, on a vintage cast-iron bench in the garden.

A small glass pitcher looks so beautiful in the dappled light that spills onto an iron garden chair.

The larger vase features all sorts of gorgeous leaves, fronds and stems from Skip’s garden.

I’ll close with one of Skip’s quote about his garden, excerpted from Into the Garden with Charles:

 “I had been presented with a blank canvas, a large one at that. For an artist, this was ideal. I gardened the way I painted: I began with a picture in my mind and then I figured out how to create it. The only difference was that my colors and textures were living beings with a thirst for life; they would grow every which way once I had placed them on the canvas. I had no intention of ever finishing the painting.”

I placed my beautiful bowl of zinnias on the kitchen counter, in front of a botanically-inspired tile triptych by artist Paula Gill of Red Step Studio

This bouquet, which is featured on page 77 of Slow Flowers (Autumn|Week 3), features a framed trio of hand-carved and colored tiles that I purchased from one of my very favorite Northwest artists, Paula Gill. Paula owns Red Step Studios, and anyone who has attended the Northwest Flower & Garden Show or San Francisco Flower & Garden Show over the years has inevitably fallen in love with her beautiful tiles. I have a collection of them and I’ve given them as gifts to many friends. Check out her work here: Red Step Studio.

After the book was published, I sent Paula a copy so she could see how her artwork looked with one of my arrangements. Out of the blue, a big envelope arrived in my mailbox recently – and much to my surprise, I found inside a set of hand-printed notecards from Paual. She wrote:

“Hi Debra, Your book was so delightful that I savored it over several days after you sent it. And then you inspired me! Your arrangements ignited a creative spark. These images were made with ‘stamps’ I cut from blocks. Thank you – and I hope you’ll enjoy. All the best, Paula”

Thank YOU, Paula~! You have, as always, a whimsical touch to your artwork. I love how you reinterpreted these vases and flowers of mine with new eyes, using distinct graphic shapes and a playful style. How can something two-dimensional look so three-dimensional! It must be the way you cut the little blocks and layered them as you made the prints. Oh, and your use of color is sublime!

I’ve got to share them here. These little works of art will put a smile on your face:

The back of each card has a little hand-lettered reference to “Slow Flowers”

So happy that Paula chose “Tulips & Twigs,” the first bouquet of Spring – and the cover art for Slow Flowers.

“Zen in Bloom” from Week 2, Spring, features daffodils in a charming block print.

Coral-red Icelandic poppies in my celadon-green pitcher, from Slow Flowers, Week 11, Spring.

American Roses with purple smoke bush, Week 4, Summer. Love the way Paula rendered my McCoy flowerpot.

Late season dahlias and hydrangeas from Week 5, Autumn.

Dahlias grown by my friend Dan Pearson in “Market Fresh,” from Week 7, Autumn.

Happiness is going on here at my house today, thanks to this generous and unexpected gift from a friend. Clearly, I am having selfish thoughts about NOT sending these cards to anyone, but perhaps I will frame them for my office wall. Isn’t that a great idea?

Isn't this border pretty? Corn, sunflowers, zinnias - all in a row!

 A few weeks ago, at the invitation of the Whatcom Horticultural Society, I spent a relaxing 24 hours surrounded by gardens, flowers and nature – as well the company of like-minded plant-lovers. 

“Why don’t you come up to my house on Wednesday morning and we’ll go see some gardens before you give your lecture?” my friend Dawn Chaplin suggested. With established Bellingham landscape designer Susann Schwiesow, Dawn organizes the monthly lectures for WHS. This is the third time over the years that the society has invited me to speak. It’s always enjoyable, especially since the drive to Whatcom County and the enticing gardens and kindred spirits make my trip north so pleasurable. 

After meeting up with Dawn, who lives on a beautiful bluff outside Stanwood with her husband David, we hopped in the car and traveled to Fir Island, a small, bucolic place that’s reached by a bridge, so you barely realize you’re crossing over Skagit River to a real island. We toured the timeless garden created by Lavone Newell-Reim and her husband Dick. I’m hoping to publish as a magazine story in the future, but I can’t help but treat you to a few of the luscious images from this very special, lived-in and loved-in landscape: 

To me, this is a perfect vignette, camera-ready for a magazine. Lavone and Dick have a natural gift for placing plants in community with ornamentation and salvaged materials.

A circular patio with a thyme garden at its center. Inviting!

Chartreuse at its finest - in twin conifers and a potted succulent.

READ MORE…

The move from Southern California to Seattle is underway.

We are up to our ears in boxes, cleaning supplies, disassembled X-box game systems, piles of things to take to the Goodwill, and four years of memories.

Today, for a moment, I decided to hit the pause button and enjoy my backyard. I discovered that watching pollinators move from nectar source to nectar source is the very best therapy for an overly-tired body and soul.

Here is a little show, from me to you:
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DR7vytPzWBU

The back story

The cake says it all. Good-bye again.

My nearly four years in Los Angeles have been quite amazing. We arrived here in late August, 2006, not really excited about leaving our beloved Seattle, but trying hard to embrace our “new” life here in SoCal. 

The mood around our household has changed dramatically in 2010. The boy who was entering high school when we moved here has just graduated and is college-bound. The child who came here as a 4th grader is now a teenager, ready for 8th grade. The husband who came here for a pretty great job lost it during the financial meltdown. But in the interim, he earned an MBA from UCLA and joined an amazing new company NOT in financial services – one that uses his combination of legal and business talents for a compelling new business strategy.  

Happy in LA

 As for me, well, this four-year California chapter has been quite an adventure. I have grown professionally, honed my design sensibilities and in many ways gained more confidence (guess that comes with turn 50 anyway, right?). I have met and interviewed incredible people – designers of homes and gardens, artists, actors, directors, producers, animators – famous people and unusual characters alike, all of whom embody this beautiful spot on the planet. Writing about the homes and gardens they possess has been a privilege. Seeing those stories appear in some of the most well-respected publications has been quite satisfying. 

So now, we are moving again. And while I have alluded for months to our plans to relocate to Pittsburgh, the surprise ending of our California chapter is that we are actually returning to Seattle. 

Bruce’s company – at what feels like the eleventh hour – has shifted strategy and is moving its corporate HQ to Seattle. Manna from heaven, I say. A small part of me thought the Pittsburgh thing would be a fun adventure (actually, after what we’ve been through on the unemployment front, I would have willingly moved to Siberia). I have a few acquaintances in Pittsburgh – through Garden Writers Association – and I was interested in spending more time there getting to know them better. That optimism was combined with anxiety about having to garden in Zone 4 or 5; whatever low temperatures Pittsburgh experiences in the winter, at the very least I know it has snow – lots of it.  

So here we are, on the threshold of yet another move. But one that brings us full-circle back to the city where Bruce and I first met, lived as were newlyweds, gave birth to and raised two wonderful sons, became first-time homeowners, and even built our dream house, living a life surrounded by so many cherished family and friends.  

READ MORE…

I’ve been contributing to a fabulous daily blog called “Lifestyle Insights. Real Women. Real Life,” which a group of us launched last September. It’s something completely different than my other writing projects and has allowed me to do some fun, memoirish, essay writing in addition to writing about outdoor living and gardening topics. But since it’s still a blog post, I have had to learn how to communicate my ideas in 300 words or less! And in today’s world of bite-sized journalism, I guess that’s a good skill to have.

To work with a dozen incredibly talented women – each highly accomplished in her own field – has been so rewarding and inspiring. Each of us is committed to communicating contemporary trends and ideas for women like us. Together, we have a powerful voice that we hope will inspire and influence how corporations communicate with their audiences.

The group was founded by Robin Avni, a multi-talented, idea-a-minute galpal. I remember reading Robin’s home+technology design stories in the Seattle Times long before I was fortunate enough to meet her – which I recall was on a press preview of the former Seattle Interiors Show in 2004 or so. Thanks to the miracle of LinkedIn, we reconnected last year and got together a few times when I was in Seattle on business or to give a lecture. Robin invited me to join her dream team of 12 lifestyle experts. We are part of a creative media and consulting agency “specializing in consumer insights, trend analysis, research and content for the MOMMY TO MAVEN™ market.” You can read more about the firm here.

I’ve added Lifestyle Insights to my blogroll at the right (under “My other blogs”), so I hope you’ll subscribe to our newsletter and also check in from time to time to discover a fabulous recipe from Jean Galton, our food expert; a perfect organizing tip from Janna Lufkin, our simplicity expert; an insightful parenting tip from Kavita Varma-White; entertaining, beverage and spirits ideas from Kat Spellman; sustainability news from Celeste Tell, our green goddess; technology insights from Molly Martin, our tech-savvy mentor (Molly, a former health and fitness columnist, also keeps us “balanced” and healthy); wonderful stories told by Sherry Stripling, whose words capture the universal connections of women in all generations; explore fashion and twentysomething trends spotted by Alexandra Smith; and get the “big picture” from Robin Avni, who ties it all together with a finger-on-the-pulse instinct about women and their lifestyle choices. Our visual storytellers include photographer Angie Norwood Browne and Valerie Griffith, our video producer. It is an honor to share the page (screen) with these talented communicators.

Here are two of my recent essays, in time for a quiet winter’s read. I hope you enjoy them:

The Scarf Society 

Here are the Italy Gals, with a few of us in our scarves.

My recent visit to a medieval village in Tuscany (where I spent a week with ten of my girlfriends in a rented villa) is symbolized by a soft, colorful scarf.

Each woman had in common a friendship with me; some have been pals since my early twenties, while others are more recently dear. Individually, we couldn’t have been more different from one another. Throughout the week, though, we bonded as a group. We spoke with a familiar friendship-language, punctuated with laughter, and enhanced by delicious food, good wine and unforgettable scenery.

And there was something else: Our Italian scarves.

Street vendors in Siena and Florence offered a tempting array of scarves – cashmere-and-silk textiles woven of gold and maroon; apple green and sapphire blue; solid or paisley-patterned. Pretty soon, most of us had joined what I called the Scarf Society. It was October, so the soft cocoon of fabric draped over the shoulder was appropriate. But it wasn’t all about getting warm.

The scarves, shawls and pashminas made us feel sophisticated. Even the less-flamboyant women in our group gravitated toward the look. Wrapped once or twice around the neck; used as a shawl around the shoulders; or worn asymmetrically with the ends twisted together, these lengths of fabric had a way of making even a t-shirt and jeans look glamorous.

Was it the scarf or the place? Was it the mutual experience of kindred spirits or a fashion statement? I’m not sure. But now that I’m back at home, I feel elegant when I wear my woven tapestry with threads of pale yellow and dark green. And I will always remember the warmth of my friendships.

You could call it a fringe benefit of an unforgettable vacation.

And this one, called Labryinths:

I was so moved by watching the labyrinth walk at a "God in the Garden" conference that I spoke at a few years ago.

Centuries, or perhaps millennia old, the labyrinth is linked to both mythical and religious practices of many cultures. Where a traditional maze is designed with dead-ends and false pathways, a labyrinth is made of concentric rings, interconnected to form a single, continuous journey.

In modern times, the labyrinth is used for meditation and contemplation – a device to slow one’s step and encourage quiet, inward focus. I’ve walked on grass labyrinths shaped by a lawn mower, pebble beach labyrinths designed by unseen hands, and carved concrete labyrinths installed in church floors and on the forest floor, surrounded by trees. Intricately made or constructed for temporary use, the labyrinth is a gift to be cherished.

To walk a labyrinth, I am required to step away from the chronological clock and get lost in the moment. I enter and follow the path to the circle’s center. I pause to say a prayer or quietly murmur “thank you” or “peace.” Slowly, I retrace my steps, returning to the beginning. I discover that time has almost stood still. I feel a spiritual connection to nature and a lightening of the heart.

I once met an artist who required the use of a wheelchair. He meditated with a “visual” labyrinth. Installed in the center of his garden was an 18-inch-square miniature mosaic labyrinth. This incredible man journeyed the labyrinth with his eyes, beginning and ending at the same point, and experiencing the same meditative benefits as when I walked a full-scale labyrinth.

The return of this ancient pattern is really no surprise. We are busy people, with a lot on our minds. Consider how hard it is to unplug, silence internal or external chatter, and isolate ourselves long enough to listen to our inner voice. Perhaps you, too, will find peace by walking the labyrinth path.

Author’s note. You know those “contributor pages” that many magazines include at the front of their books? I recently received a request from one of my 805 Living editors to write about “the little things that make life grand” to be included in the November issue’s “Behind the Scenes” section.

I wrote the following tea-drinker’s manifesto (about 500 words) before I re-read Anthony’s email in which he asked for only 50 words! Yikes! Anyway, he used one entire sentence and the rest would have been filed away or deleted had I not decided to go public here, with my personal confession. I don’t think I’m alone, either. While staying our our villa in Italy a few weeks ago, I woke up every morning with a chubby packet — a bag of Peet’s English Breakfast tea — slid under the door of my room (thanks, Paula!). Someone was looking out for me.

I am a tea drinker.

In the world of double-tall lattes and cappuccinos, I realize I am a minority.

So I am grateful for a decent, HOT mug of English Breakfast tea (or two). Honestly, I wake up each morning excited to start my day. But mostly I wake up excited to fill the electric kettle with water and hit the “on” button so I can brew a pot of tea, pour myself a mug and add a splash of milk (not half-and-half or cream). I always drink from my French Apilco porcelain mugs from Williams Sonoma.

I’ve taken to carrying around spare tea bags with me, just in case. Places like Starbucks stock Tazo’s “Awake” and the Tully’s at the Burbank Airport has canisters of “British Breakfast.” I love these teas, too.

Unfortunately, though, at least one time out of 10, these coffee joints are “out” of my tea. You would never, ever find these places running out of coffee. That would be unthinkable. At least I can order a Grande cup of piping hot water and make my own on the fly.

The problem with restaurants and hotels (as well as airplanes) is that you often have to beg for real milk. I’ll take it any way you have it – whole, two percent or non-fat (I especially love steamed milk, which doesn’t cool down my tea). Just please give me milk instead of cream or half-and-half. I am one-quarter English, and I always tell the waitress that the English people use milk with their tea.

And don’t get me started about the stupid carafes of hot water you get at conferences. I’m talking about the vessels previously used to dispense the dreaded coffee beverage. As a result, the entire pot of hot water is infused with that bad coffee flavor. It really shouldn’t be difficult to segregate your carafes so a few are dedicated to only hot water for tea drinkers.

I realize this little meditation on the merits of a good cup of tea sounds more like a rant than a rave. So I will end on a positive, thankful note.

I could not function with out my delicious, satisfying mug of morning tea. It really is the fuel that runs my engine. I love that there are places in the world where tea is grown, processed and packaged for export to the U.S. I love that a few retailers still exist where I can purchase excellent, loose tea in bulk. And I love the moment of calm that drinking tea gives me in the midst of my chaotic, deadline-driven life.

To many more sips!

P.S., A great tea resource is the Teacup in Seattle. You can go online and order loose tea (Malty Assam is my favorite), OR if you are ever visiting Seattle, be sure to go in person for their very excellent tea latte. My friend Jean introduced me to this beverage more than a decade ago. It is a big secret how they make it, but Jean’s theory is that the brewers make a “shot” of a very dense, strong Indian tea and then infuse steamed milk, just like the coffee lattes are made. It is heavenly.