Rosebud Restoration Project
The coffee pot was washed, but it is so much a pot for coffee, the caffeine tang resisted. There are four teapots that could have been utilised. Only the whim was, to watch the rosebuds float and brew, and the coffee pot is made of glass. When you have grown, picked and dried the buds yourself, sealed them in a glass jar and smiled at them on the larder shelf everyday for nearly half a year, it makes for an amiable balance of work and indulgence. The pot goes on the oak secretaire, light pours through it, filtered pink. It brings rest to my busy eyes. In the cup, it brings warmth to my hands. Warm fragrance assimilated by steam, by quick liquid sips. A core of heat flickers like a candle flame. Slight sour aftertaste of years of layers of coffee. I do not regret the coffee, not even the day of the espresso overdose when I ended up trembling in a corner with an a-rhythmical heart. But I feel the calm flame, and I think: coffee to sustain me, tea to restore me.