honey vanilla chamomile tea.

I am not actually sipping my honey vanilla chamomile tea yet, I am awaiting the whistle of the kettle to forewarn me that the water is boiled and my tea can now begin imbuing its flavorful herbs in my white, wide-mouthed mug. Anytime now. Ah, I can hear the pressure rising...
Now that my tea is steeping and sweetened with the perfect amount of honey I can really sit down and write. Today has been another long day, made bearable by two things: The perpetual rain today has shrouded the mountains all around the valley in that enchanting mist I love so much, hiding the peaks so that one can imagine they loom higher than ever before in majestic mysteriousness. Today is also the beginning of Fall Break, and I am so thankful to get a couple days away from the engrossing life of being a student. I have two extra days in which to read whatever I want, and spend my time how ever I please, which may or may not include any of the following: reading, writing, drawing, thinking, painting, and then of course the everyday things like walking Cael, and loving my husband so well. These things are all prevailed upon in my everyday life by my school work and constant thoughts of assignments, grades, and articles for the newspaper. I eagerly anticipate giving them their due time these next few days; then alas, it will be over before I realize.

My tea is finally cool enough to sip. The flavor of the aromas are dancing upon my tongue in peaceful pirouettes then waltzing back and forth, making aqauintance with every tastebud before slipping down my throat, warm and comforting. The smell of chamomile is something that never fails to calm my senses and ease the tension that usually accumulates in my shoulders any given day. It's sweet but not sickly so; the redolence seems to permeate my being little by little, each breath taken being deeper than the one before it. It smells like home, like curling up with a good book on a chilly winter's gloaming, like the warm embrace of a parent when you're young before drifting off to sleep. When I smell chamomile I find it easy to imagine myself in my favorite fantasy novel, having a warm cup of chamomile tea before the hearth of my father's household, being full from a hearty dinner, surrounded by family listening to stories of old I've heard a thousand times and of which I never tire.
Now I am finding that as my body relaxes, that tranquility is knocking at the door to my mind. I think I'll end here, and go and welcome my guest waiting on the doorstep; I'll invite him in and ask him to stay a while.

Peacefully,

Caitlin