The first frost on the north trail
I went up before sunrise and found the whole meadow stitched with silver. A few notes on cold-weather layers and why I keep going back to the same three miles.
Field notes on slow mornings — trail walks near the ridge, loose-leaf tea, and the books that pile up on the windowsill.
Kettle notes: three autumn oolongs
A quiet comparison of three roasted oolongs I have been working through this month.