Autumn Tea

The roar of the fireplace. Water boils, and a fragrance fills my kitchen of my cabin out here in the woods. Outside there is already darkness. No stars tonight. The only light comes from the few candles I have lit.

The promise of spring, the laziness of summer and the crispness of early autumn has passed. Now is the time for woolen blankets and piping hot tea.

With nothing to disturb me I pour more steaming hot water over the tea leaves and watch the fragrant steam rising. This years Ming Cong comes at me with full force. A powerful testimony of the clarity of the Wu Yi mountains.