I finished the last of my loose vanilla-flavored black tea this morning. I carefully tapped the leaves into the tea ball and shook a bit of dust away. Then I put my nose into the tea tin, inhaled the scent of vanilla, and lapsed into thought. A minute or two later, I realized I was still idly waving the tea tin back and forth below my nose.
In high school Spanish, I saw a film about a Spanish sherry maker nicknamed El Nariz (The Nose). He had an enormously long nose, under which he would wave a glass of wine which he was judging. My nose is long and bony, though not so magnificent as his; but this tea tin is rather smaller than a wine glass, and the similarity struck me as I continued to absent-mindedly sniff at the smell of vanilla.
Then I put the tea tin away and went to get hot water.
I'm right in the middle of my mid-afternoon slump, which is why I'm
writing here rather than revising slides. I'm listening to an episode
To the Best of Our
Knowledge; this time the topic is
Shades of Color.
The first segment was on color in poetry, and I wondered as I listened --
is it the color images or the color words that make a difference?
You don't have to be able to see red to associate it with blood,
luck, or tomatoes (depending on your cultural biases), and color words
are often the short, sharp, old words that work so well in poems.
On a completely unrelated note, I was amused by this comment on correspondence, particularly after recent conversations on the topic of letter-writing with Vince, and on the topic of scientific correspondence with -- drat. Well, I think I had a conversation about scientific correspondence with someone recently.
I think I should make another cup of tea and work on my slides, now.