The sky is gray in my garden in Limousin . Under the apple tree, I set up my chair and it's soon tea time.
Rose Népal. The dress is clear, light, almost spring-like, the clouds are fading. From the porcelain cup, discreet aromas with floral notes escape. The infusion of the white tea is slow like the long summer afternoon. The velvety and enveloping leaves of the white tea let out rosebuds.
It is the melancholic scent of gardens of yesteryear that returns and the promise of other gardens, far away, between mountains and temples of Nepal. A suspended journey between gardens with subtle flavors of rose water. A silent but greedy dialogue. The world in my cup, a bit of spring in a dull summer, and a bit of sunshine rediscovered with a sip of tea that warms me.
Gardenias, clematis and seringats wake up and bring me back to Limousin ... with the suave and flowery taste of Nepalese altitudes.
Cécile Ferrier Dias