They are gone, the little buzzing devils. I can sit in the tea house and drink a pot of Peppermint delight without swatting anything. I always think of the wonderful supple woman in Japan who did a tea ceremony for us. She was the epitome of measured grace. I pass so many piles of bamboo and I take some of it and carry it home. It becomes the walls and the roof of the tea house. No charge for creativity.
No comments:
Post a Comment