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Much joy in simple things today—home after a long week on the road, leaves a shag carpet in the yard and still dropping like gentle rain, cat snoozing nearby, Dead Poets’ Society playing gently in the background, and a cup of good green tea that tastes better because it was a thoughtful gift.

The gift was from one of my Sunday sixth grade girls—two of her friends and their moms had an all-girl adventure in Boston, and I playfully asked for some tea from Boston. I expected a tea bag from the hotel; I received two lovely envelopes from the Boston Tea Party Museum with period-accurate loose leaf! (And I just love saying “Oliver Pluff” aloud!)

Y’all know I mangle my green teas more often than I get them right, and I think I was overzealous on the water temp—the taste is a bit more bitter than the crisp, fresh, leafy scent of the tea. But it’s satiny and smooth, fresh and about the shade of the few silver maple leaves still doggedly grasping the backyard branches.