Daily Rituals

1.
A fresh morning pot of black tea.

2.
A favorite mug, dolloped with milk first before tea.

3.
Checking in (throughout the day): email, Facebook (and posting -- as a former student said, "You're still teaching," but I think of it as a kind of "book" club in which everyone shares), The New York Times, Feedly.

4.
Reading and commenting on compositions.

5.
Walking.
















6.
Taking pictures.

7.
Looking at, deleting, working on pictures.

8.
Blogging.

9.
A little something before dinner.

10.
Dinner (and sometimes work).

11.
Netflix.

12.
Litter box duties.

13.
Reading.

14.
Bed.

Of these, six are for me for the necessary actions of my creative life, something of which I was reminded today when my friend Jane posted to FB an article from The Washington Post about Mason Currey's book, Daily Rituals: How Artists Work.

His ideas aren't new, and I'm no artist.

But this much is true: "crafting . . . routine[s has] minimize[d] the distractions in [my] life and maximize[d my] ability to think creatively."

Especially the bold ones.

Recipe for An Almost Perfect Sunday

Ingredients

• a dollop of stay-in weather
• interspersed bits of work
• wafts of laundry detergent mixed with cooking chicken
• a dependable recipe for a delicious supper
• one good book
• great heaps of kitten purring, tussling, lap sitting
• communication with old friends

Directions

Begin with a slow waking. A fresh pot of strong black tea, reading of the New York Times and Facebook, followed by two hours of compositions and laundry.

Toss ingredients for white bean chicken chili into the crockpot. Check the laundry and the cats.

Eat breakfast: two perfectly poached eggs on strong dry toast.

Read compositions for another two hours.

Cover the sofa with an Indian spread, cuddle with the kittens, and finish Ann Patchett's This Is the Story of a Happy Marriage. Remember stories of her as a Girl Scout under the tutelage of a dear older friend, re-visit Mills Bookstore in my mind, note with amusement the odd connections of neighborhoods, schools, and Sewanee.

Select another book from the Tennessee R.E.A.D.S. website (Poppy Z. Brite's Soul Kitchen).

Return to work with tea, supper, and kittens.

Look forward to another restful slumber.

What's Missing

A walk around the lake or in the woods, sunshine, saturated color. I shall await another day.

Of Self-indulgence

Some people buy expensive shoes, or eat at fancy restaurants, or travel to exotic ports. On occasion, I surrender to an expensive fancy, too, and when I do, it means a virtual trip to Upton Tea, purveyor of over 400 imported teas and creator of a charming and informative quarterly newsletter.

I begin the same way on each visit: I click the link to black tea, then blends (breakfast). Should this sound easy, note that there are 17 choices in this section alone. I look for key words: full bodied, best with milk, hearty, brisk. I find one, order, and wait.

The day my tea arrives in the personalized silver bag brings Christmas in a cup. I never know what surprises Santa Upton will deliver. This time, the Scottish Breakfast Blend fulfills the promise of its description: "a round, full flavor, malty notes, and brisk character."

The only problem is this: how to make it last.

What if money were no object?

"What would you do?" asks Alan Watts.

I would give my most prized and sentimental possessions to my family and most of the rest of my possessions to those who could use or want them.

I would buy a little plot of land near my family, in woods, near mountains and water. On it, I would build a tiny house with an adjoining tiny studio just like this one.

I would use a fast computer with all the right photography and publishing programs. I would use more flexible equipment, including different cameras for different purposes. I would share my tiny house with a cat or cats to keep me company. I would use my library card at a good library with Kindle books. I would live near a college campus where I could attend lectures and plays, concerts and classes. I would travel to places I already love and love the new ones I would visit. I would wear comfortable clothes all the time, and every night at home I would float in a big bathtub under stars.

I would read, and walk, and write, and complete my poetry MFA and take photography classes and workshops, and make pictures, and compose and construct handmade books.

I would spend time with people I love and with people who create things because they must.

I would drink tea and make scones.

I would wake without fear and fall asleep without anxiety.

And I would be happy.

The Subtle Joy of Tea

Ten years ago, I spent a month in Oxford, England, attending a summer program on a scholarship from the English-Speaking Union. At Exeter College on The Turl, I learned many things, not the least of which is the pleasure of tea. Humble, everyday, nothing-fancy PG Tips. I drank it for breakfast with white toast, which I despised at first but grew to love. I drank it after lunch in The Junior Common Room. I drank it in the late afternoon in The Undercroft. I drank it after supper, again in the JCR.

Since then, I have been a tea fanatic.

Although I have tried fancy blends from the Boston-based Upton Tea Company, which friends here in Sewanee recommended, and although I love African Dew blend from New York's Alice's Teacup, and although I have tried other popular British brands including Typhoo, I'm partial to PG Tips and the signature pyramid-style bag.

First thing in the morning and last thing at night, I drink my black tea lightened with milk. Sometimes I have it with a snack, like this blueberry turnover made by the Cumberland Street Bakery in Cowan. Mostly, though, I just drink the tea, savoring the taste of soil and leaf, holding it on my tongue. It is a welcome tonic.

(A word about the objects in this photo, which I also love. I made the cup in 1973 or 1974 in one of two summer-long courses I took in wheel-throwing at Newcomb in New Orleans. The plate was made by Brown's Pottery of Arden, NC, a family-owned business famous for its practical line of dinnerware and its whimsical face jogs. All contributed to the happiness I felt before and after I took this picture.)