There is a rhythm to making tea that I enjoy; water plinking into the kettle, the tick, tick, tick of the flame igniting, the blue haze of warmth, followed by the slow roll of water, slowly picking up steam. It is my early morning routine. Tom usually sets the kettle up, along with a cup and saucer, before I come down the stairs. They patiently wait for me each morning. The least I can do is patiently wait for the water to boil.
This morning, I wandered, looking out windows and doors to see what wonders nature performed while we slept – or what pots the chipmunks had been rummaging around in. The pots on our deck were looking a little worse for the wear after yesterday’s heat. Still in my pajamas and not wanting to haul the garden hose around, I grabbed the newly emptied milk carton that was sitting, with the same morning patience as my teacup, to be recycled. I filled it up with water, opened the door to the deck, and watered my thirsty plants; the hanging petunias, the upright salvias and Lantana, and the sprawling morning glories, which we boasting a few heavenly blue blooms.
Zeus and Athena, two hanging wall pots with the faces of ancient gods, were last on my quest. High up the bricks, they are a little tricky for any heavy watering container, so, are usually the last to get drinks. As I stepped up on the riser, I was enveloped in sticky webbing. The spiders, I thought, are out a bit early, weaving their webs.
I went inside, my tea perfectly brewed, the computer alert and humming, my new day beginning. It was then that I discover that today is the birthday of E.B. White, the author of Charlotte’s Web.
Of course, but of course, the spiders were out, spinning a morning web in honor of Mr. White’s birthday.
Now, where did I put my copy.