Even though time and space don’t matter in this world, the Fool ran into the Knight of Pentacles somewhere and sometime. The Fool wandered over a hill through a thick jungle and emerged to look down into a valley of steppes. He could see rows of tea shrubs growing there.
He saw a man on top of an elephant looking down on the crops, as well. The man seemed to be surveying the farm. The Fool was sure that this man was the tea farmer himself, and that he was getting ready to harvest the plants.
The Fool coughed to let the man on the elephant know he was there. The man didn’t even look over, but nodded his head in acknowledgment. The elephant turned an eye towards the Fool and considered the old man. The Fool got lost in the elephant’s eye and saw many other worlds within it. He also saw grief, and memories.
I am getting ready for the first harvest, the man said. I always want to make sure that we do it right. We farmers always do the same thing, year in and year out, but just a change in weather, or a pest, or world economies – all will affect the crop.
Tea is a worthy crop, the man continued, and it is always in high demand. This is Darjeeling tea, which is a much-sought-out tea. This will be my first flush when I begin harvesting. It is the most gentle and fragile of the flavors. We have to be careful when we pick these leaves for the process.
The wind blew gently through the leaves, causing a hushing sound. The tea plantation went so far down the hillside into the valley that the bottom of it was obscured by clouds. It felt like they were high in the heavens.
They walked down to a gazebo and the man got off the elephant and started preparing some tea.
Tea is always a ritual, the man said, even if you’re making it just to drink with no ritualistic purposes.
He watched his pot on a small fire. Both the man and the Fool sat in meditation, waiting for the water to boil. The steam started trickling out of the spout, and when the steam was steady and there was a small drip, the man pulled the pot.
Darjeeling’s first flush should be enjoyed at below a boil, the man said as he poured the water into two cups. He put a spoonful of loose tea into each cup and waited a few minutes before spooning out the spent leaves.
The Fool brought the tea to his mouth and blew the steam away to cool the water. He took a sip and let it slurp across his tongue, bringing in a dried fruit and dry-grass flavor. It tasted like home. The Fool closed his eyes and concentrated on the flavor before returning to the cup for more.
The first harvest is always my favorite, the man said, enjoying his own cup. It has the purest flavor.
This will be a good harvest, he added, looking around at his fields of neat rows of tea shrubs. I have been fortunate this year.
The two drank their tea in silence, enjoying the rush of wind across the leaves of the tea shrubs. The elephant ate grass at the base of the gazebo, and its munching added to the relaxing afternoon.