Pure genius and love in action. boyanslat.com
Oh, my darlings, it has been most of the winter since I’ve written here. Kenny called me on his way to Lake Tahoe with Dana last night to ask me about some of the herbs I had given him at Thanksgiving that we’d grown and dried from the garden. He had blended them all together and made what he calls Momma Love Tea and wanted to recall some of what went in there. And in so doing he called me back to this place where I love so much, this place where my heart lives.
So this morning I woke, and got out all the jars of herbs that have been patiently waiting for me, and started blending an enormous batch of Richmondy Momma Love Tea. And the beauty that was everywhere! The colors, my hands communing with the herbs, filling my heart with light.
Kenny said he has been brewing the tea in the french press, and he is able to extract several pots full from each brew. As I think (and hope) that said french press must be the one I left there when I headed back east, I am going to go hunt down another french press today and get brewing.
And listen to this. Dana has brewed up some kombucha and mixed it with some Momma Love Tea and added oranges to it, and Kenny said it is seriously the most amazing concoction ever. So, perhaps time to start another kombucha mother and get back to that, too.
Here is what goes in Momma Love Tea:
P.S. I also made a batch of a cleansing and strengthening tea using some things from the garden and some dried herbs I got from Elwood Thompson’s, which is a healthy grocery store here. The herbs from the store, lovely as they are, do not have nearly as much chi as they have probably been sitting around a while. I will have to get seeds to grow this stuff my own self. (we are just now beginning to plan the garden, OMG.). Here is what’s in it:
Patty Griffin’s singing me up to the mountain as I head to Asheville for the holy days. Ahhhh, beauty.
I am beaming you love from the deepest part of my heart.
Merry everything and everywhere.
Well, this is pretty cool. Plants that clean up the air for you by eliminating formaldehyde and other noxious fumes. Let me just add peace lily and pot mum to the list today.
Lovely Northern Exposure.
My darling son Kenny was in town this weekend and we went to the James River, by way of what’s known in these parts as Texas Beach. You depart ordinary reality slowly, via a path from a park near Maymont which seems initially rather, well, ordinary. This is, as I’m sure you know, often true of portals. You walk down a dirt path, cross over the railroad tracks via a weirdly God-awful footbridge and set of stairs down to the path on the other side, over and past the still waters of the inland channels. Keep going. Past baby snakes, past the people gathered in the lagoon (you can let one of the kind men carry you across, if he offers), past stagnant water, poison ivy, tree roots, all being lovely, all being love. Keep going in to the river, into the fall line. Over the rocks and the current. To where you are in the center of everything and you are river. You are the huge rock with water moving past. You are the sun shining on everything. You are the beautiful planet that is recreating itself before our very eyes. You are the railroad bridge. You are the girl hoola-hooping just upriver. You are creating and being created, and it is a little bit astonishing, a little bit reassuring, but mostly, you are breathing in, breathing out, and you feel the river-tree-sky-beauty breathing with you.
Image of me by Kenny Crowley, taken at Big Sur last year. We didn’t bring any cameras to the river this time. Just ourselves.
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