But there is nothing like the beginning of hot tea season—not to be confused with pumpkin spiced latte season, which happens at the mall or in the morning right before I get on the bus to work. The beginning of hot tea season means sweat pants and socks, the revival of my yarn stash, evenings spent watching movies or reading long past our bedtime.
In the south we have to simulate the winters of New England. We wish for white Christmases, for chilly mornings and reasons to wear the scarves we got for Christmas. So actually living here, actually having to shelter ourselves from the harsh of winter, the beginnings of which is heralded in by tea season, feels like a gift each year.