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As “tea” is actually the last thing mentioned on its ingredient list, I hesitated to add this to the lineup, but for what it is, it’s surprisingly tasty! Locally, we can find it at Atwoods, a farm and ranch store chain that offers free popcorn, saddle blankets, rabbit food, empty egg cartons, live chicks, and an interesting assortment of grocery whatnots.

Normally, I avoid bottled sweet tea because the citric acid reminds me of a bad chemistry experiment. The metallic sharpness spoils what could be a potentially decent drink. In this case, it doesn’t overpower the tea, nor does the sweetener (pure cane sugar; no stevia). It’s more “peach” than “tea,” but the fruit flavor is respectably accurate.

We have a front stoop instead of a front porch, but if I had one, I’d be on it with a rocking chair, the rest of the bottle, and my phone poised toward the maple tree knothole. Hootie has owl babies!

Part of a cute little gift threesome in glass test tubes with corks. English breakfast has never been strong enough to wake me…it’s more like gentle tug on the sheets at the bottom of the bed instead of being whapped in the face with a heavy pillow.

That said, this is adequate for office use. Says it’s a blend of Assam, Nilgiri and Ceylon. I say it’s heavy on the Ceylon, but the other players keep it from being too astringent and whiny. Tastes like “just tea.”

It’s been an eventful Easter—torrential rain overnight; Turkey Creek overflowing in the neighbors’ yards; some joy and chaos with my church kids (can you balance six jellybeans on a craft stick clamped in your mouth and say your memory verse?); a quick and quiet lunch followed up by tornado warnings bullying their way through several counties.

Sun’s out now and Hootie (yep, we named her) is peeking out of the knothole to see if the coast is clear. We think she’s got eggs or babies in the knothole because she’s had to fend off some greedy crows. Never underestimate the fury of a mama owl on the warpath.

In all the excitement, I’ve almost forgotten what I planned to say about this gentle oolong, other than my thanks to Martin is long-g-g-g-g-g overdue! I kept the steep time and temp very light, so the essence of the oolong base and the gardenia was barely there. Not heavily floral at all, but that’s the way I like my oolong.

Sigh. I hate change. Such as the marketing email I received from Savoy this week announcing that they are closing their physical storefronts. Online only. No doubt my favorites (like this one) will still be readily available, but there’s just something about that first step inside the door of a favorite tea shop, that first whiff of leaf, that makes your blood pressure drop and your smile slowly curl up at the corners like the Grinch.

Braveheart isn’t for the weak-minded. Stout, brassy, rye-bread goodness. I hope a packet delivered by mail tastes as good as one you’ve carried out of the store with your own two hands. I have doubts.

This isn’t a new one in my collection, but the packet is slow to empty … this chamomile and apple blend requires such a long steep time, you have to calendar it in. Tonight, I put the leaves in to stew, left it an hour, then reheated it in the microwave. Manhandled that way, it’s delicious! Silky; nice balance of fruit to cami. A good nightcap after a sulky, rainy day.

If you live near a Smallcakes Cupcakerie, consider yourselves fortunate. We miss ours! Little boutique cupcake and ice cream place that changed its flavor lineup weekly. They had a moist, melt-in-your mouth strawberry cupcake that I could gnarf in about three giant bites, I liked it so much. Snowberry Frost is its liquid stepchild. Berries and buttercream, compliments of the lovely ashmanra. Thank you—I needed the smile!

This is from the “I Can’t Believe It’s That Old and Is Still Viable” collection here at Shabby House. Little peach, little rose. No doubt not as potent as in its heyday, but I added a bag of decaf Red Rose and it’s not a bad little secondhand cup to keep me company while we’re waiting for the owl concert. We’ve got one camping in the knothole in the tree in our front yard and he’s due to wake up in about ten minutes.

I can’t believe I forgot about this one. My little bag of buckwheat goodness is about to celebrate a birthday, so it’s time to finish and enjoy it. However, it’s held up well and still tastes like church kid cookies—I pulled up my old note and we had a lovely conversation about it then.

Nature’s Own Factory does not appear to have restocked its cocoa grist version, which is a shame. I wonder if a homemade version with plain buckwheat tea and cocoa nibs would be a fair substitute.

One doesn’t expect much from a box of teabags on one-dollar clearance at Wal-Mart. This performed right on point. The astringency that I associate with Red Rose has been de-caffed out and what’s left is mild and maybe a little soapy, but not undrinkable. It will be a good carrying mechanism for additives.

Somebody once said that waiting for a major weather event that’s been local headline news for days is like being stalked by a killer turtle. Our turtle is due to arrive Tuesday—foot of snow; sub-zero temps. I don’t do even do the mild version of winter well, so something soothing is much needed this evening.

I haven’t written about this much—a fall acquisition from an out-of-town Fresh Market (Whole Foods lookalike), but I’m down to just a few bags. It is lavender heavy, but not like grandma’s talcum powder. I’m not sure there’s enough valerian in the blend to have much effect on my night’s sleep, but the overall effect soothing and makes me think of lilacs in the sunshine and honeybees browsing in my container garden.