Sunday Morning; all is well

Drinking my morning brew and wishing I had gotten up about 2 hours earlier. But, wish is what I do, every morning. Wishing I got up earlier won’t actually get me up before 7:30 or eight. Or eight thirty for that matter. Then there is the matter of feeding pets and coffee-making, and if you know me well, the one hour I allow myself to drink that coffee. That hour is a generosity few people can afford. Many days I cannot afford it, so the days I can, I do.

I draw up the exact amount of cold well water I need to fill my insulated coffee mug (emerald-green and a gift from my Mother this past Christmas), pour it into my vintage Corning tea kettle and bring it to a low boil. Meanwhile I rinse my mug in hot water, add exactly one tablespoon of sugar, set the filter basket on top with a coffee filter and add the coffee.

I’m not a coffee snob. Yet. But that factor grows along with my friendship with Marideth. Currently I am drinking Don Fransisco butterscotch, a coffee I lusted after for many years before I learned the fine art of coffee drinking. As a child and all through early life I was passionate about the smell of coffee but couldn’t tolerate the taste of it. During one particular relationship which I will not go into today, I learned to be still. I learned to savor the flavor of mornings and morning rituals. Drinking coffee was among them.

My coffee drinking went in and out like a … well … like a well oiled piston. Here this week and gone the next. Then  few years ago my sister and I went to Greece and coffee drinking is taken seriously. We partook of the coffee ritual (this is also where I picked up my daily cigarette habit after many years of abstaining) and the smoking ritual as a way of enjoying more fully the lifestyles we were encountering there.

I am now a devout morning coffee drinker. It is my one time each day I allow total relaxation, savoring the coming day (occasionally as the sun rises but not too often) and do my daily planing and contemplation.

When the water boils and cools slightly I slowly pour it through the coffee filter then give it a stir and sip along the hour.

Today I hope you enjoy the fact that I have shared my hour with you; part of it anyway.

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2 Responses to Sunday Morning; all is well

  1. John Mulligan says:

    The Coffee Hour is a time not to be messed with in my house, too. I have a particular way of making coffee that involves a Bialetti stove-top espressio maker. It’s not really espresso but it is very good, very flavourful and very strong coffee. It would be generous to call my thoughts during this quiet time a meditation, but let’s be generous. I watch the day start even though it is usualy well underway for most creatures by then. I actually drink the coffee in my bed, to avoid accidentally accomplishing anything.

    I like your little coffee pot, the one that is pictured on this page. Very ’70’s Corning ware. Beautiful.

    My wife Bonnie got on on to drinking coffee when we took a holiday in the Dominican Republic one year. They made proper coffee and get the milk warm, enhancing the flavour of both. She was genuinely suprised at how good it was. Now we both have coffee in the morning.

    Thanks for sharing.

    • Moonmooring says:

      You’re welcome John, and such a nice response back. I always welcome eople to reply to posts but it so seldom happens.

      Great coffee story… I especially like the part about drinking it in bed to avoid accidentally doing anything!

      Sarah

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