Mother’s Day morning started early—woke at 5:00 a.m. for no discernible reason, but it was worth the early start. A basket of goodies was beside my chair, containing a t-shirt bearing the Royal Warrant, cat socks and stickers, and what is likely to be a five-year-supply of Congou.
But that’s OK. I love this stuff.
I stuck my nose in the packet and left it there for a while. Then I made a rich cup, redolent of dark cherries and dried apple, and drank it leisurely in the backyard glider in my old flannel robe watching the birds wake up. Delicious. All of it.
Mamas, happy Mother’s Day. You’re doing just fine and your children are beautiful.
Happy Mother’s Day, my friend!