A Bowl Of Tea And A Fresh, Green Leaf

In tea class, we are practicing Summer Procedure. While the goal of Winter Procedure is to imbue guests with warmth and coziness, the goal of Summer Procedure is to enhance every cool sensation possible- while still enjoying hot tea.

We begin every practice- regardless of season- with the "host" bringing out the small plate or tray of wagashi.  These delicate, seasonally appropriate treats are enjoyed while the host prepares the bowl of tea.  The delicate flavors that linger on the tongue offset and sweeten the slightly bitter taste of tea. 

Our summertime wagashi.

The wagashi in the photo above are special. Our tea instructor brought them back from the beautiful city of Kyoto.  Kyoto houses the headquarters of our particular School of Tea. Combine this prestige with the smugness of cultural superiority always claimed by Kyoto-ites, and these are very special wagashi, indeed!

Called yuzukohaku, the clear and gelatinous texture is meant to invoke an icy mountain stream.  The yellow bits of yuzu- a Asian citrus traditionally associated with winter- call to mind the mountain stream's lazily floating bits of grass.  I close my eyes and take a bite.  Cool and fresh.  It's perfect.

From left to right: Ceramic bowl to hold dirty water, ladle used to scoop water, bamboo stand (inside the dirty water bowl) for the ladle, lacquered container holding the powdered tea, large ceramic jar for cool water.

These are each of the items I will need to practice the tea portion of Tea Ceremony.  Hiding just outside the tea room door, each patiently awaits its entrance.  The large, ceramic vessel holds my cold water.  It is usually topped by a ceramic lid; however, this is an extra special Summer Procedure.  Our instructor brings a large, leaf "lid," instead.  Ahhhh...the room feels cooler, already.

From bottom to top:  The tea bowl (chawan). The small piece of white linen used to clean the bowl.  The whisk, which is essential to preparing a properly frothed bowl of tea.  The scoop, which is used to scoop tea out of its lacquered container.

The tea bowl for summer procedure is special.  An appropriate, seasonal choice is a vessel with gently flaring sides, as opposed to a deeper tea bowl with high sides.  A more shallow bowl means a cooler bowl of tea.  Which, during a sweltering, Japanese summer, is very much appreciated.

After I enter the tea room for the final time, I purify the tea utensils, wash the tea bowl, and discard the now-dirty water.  I remove the leaf from the top of its vessel.  Folding the leaf and floating it on top of the water with which I cleaned the tea bowl, I feel a bit sad.  The leaf's role is now finished. Summery leaf, I wish we could have admired you for a little bit longer.

I am ready to make tea.  The leaf is folded and put away, and my purifying cloth 
rests on the tatami, waiting to be refolded and tucked back into my belt.

I scoop powdered tea into the purified tea bowl.  In a moment, I will carefully pour the hot water and whisk the two together. My instructor and fellow students will sip, savoring the oasis of peace that is given by a bowl of tea.  I pause for a moment to appreciate.

Smooth. Woven. Powder.

Pink fades to white.  Shocking green. 

It is beautiful.

Disclaimer:  I do my best to make sure all my information is accurate.  However, details may change or I may just be flat-out wrong.  Please let me know if something needs a correction.  Thank-you!