Tag Archives: tea


I should know my family by now. Distracted by a delightful day of reading and tea, my evening’s disturbance of something in the walls merely irked me. It did not trip my brain properly; prior to any arrival by my Cousin Silas, things seem to crawl and scramble through one’s walls. It’s a heralding.

No, instead, I sighed and went to bed early, taking a sleeping draught of my own design, trusting that should the visitor be unfriendly, Bubo would take care of it. She always does. Nocturnal vigilance and all that.

This morning I discovered the garden door open and onion peels drifting across the floors like tiny delicate tumbleweeds of an odoriferous nature.

Then I heard the the tell-tale sound of a blade being sharpened and immediately I knew: Cousin Silas had arrived.

It should be an interesting week. Life is never dull with Silas. I do hope he brought his homemade whiskey with him. It helps with the visits.

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Cuppa Moss

Last night’s spurt of rain caused an odd silver moss to grow on the south side of the house. It feels like chenille, smells like earl grey.

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Shake Yourself Off

Bubo just coughed something up. That something shook itself off and calmly walked out the back door. Then Bubo shook herself and stalked up to the Laboratory.

I do not have enough tea to process this event.

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One Morning in Maine

Sunday morning I woke to fog rolling across the cove, making the air molecules cool and damp. Bubo and I breakfasted on the rocky beach during the low tide, watching the lobster boats motor about, pulling in their hauls, surrounded by halos of seagulls.

The weather report was delightfully bleak; lightening storms and hail anticipated. But instead of hunkering down against the bluffs and watching the waves, Bubo and I headed south, back to Brooklyn. We encountered driving rain the entire trip down and arrived home drenched and exhausted.

Amazing how a wild and wooly New England adventure can sap one’s energy. We’ve been recovering with copious amounts of tea and Poirot. Nothing like caffeine and mysteries to get one’s little grey cells firing.

Welcome home, indeed.

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