My garden is starting to look touched with the colour of the advancing autumn. A hausta has lost its colour on a cooler night, and my mint is colouring a deep burgundy. I have the mint growing in my garden, but as expected, it did not respect the raised bed perimeter, and grew across my path. It's annoying to some who probably try to walk around it, but I love the smell of spearmint that arises when I tromp right through, knowing no amount of trampling is going to control this heavenly weed.
I have dried a bunch of stems, hanging them upside down in the kitchen, and tonight they were ready for removal. It's not cold yet, but the colours are warmer than the night when it falls, so it seemed like a good night for mint tea.
Mint tea always makes me think of my friend Uli, and the sugar I put in it is because of him. The tea is perfectly lovely without anything but time to cool, but Uli would always make it sweet, so tonight I drink it sweet in the memory of Austria. It became a ritual at school to meet up with Uli and my roommate Sara to enjoy a cup of this aromatic tea together just before saying good-night, or Grüsti or Ciao.
I still imagine Uli sitting, like this figure he gave me to remind me of him, presumably at a later date that we have arguable arrived at, sitting in a comfortable chair, now with reading glasses, reading a book and drinking a cup of piping hot mint tea with a little sugar stirred in. I am pretty sure Sara might be doing exactly the same thing, but she would be singing a song while she did it. So, while tonight I have only the company of a purring kitty on a pillow on the couch, always an arms-length away, I drink my garden mint tea, and am in good company.
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