I took this picture last year in January when we went to see the eagles. The trip was thrilling but unbelievably cold. Wet misty snow clung to everything, draining the warmth from whatever the tiny snowflakes touched.
No snow today, but I still can't seem to get warm.
When I was little, my father believed that one must sweat the cold out. He would slice up fresh ginger with lemon and boil it down in a big pot. He would make us put on our sweat suits and hats and wrap ourselves in a blanket.
Drinking the tea caused the strangest sensation. Of course it would warm your throat as it went down, but within a few seconds, the ginger would start to heat up. You could feel the warmth move like ripples from the pit of your stomach, out of your torso, through your arms and legs and finally out to your fingers and toes.. In little time your cheeks would flush and you would start to sweat... that drowsy kind of warmed sleep would follow. It's that kinda of cold, so tomorrow I will make my dad's tea.
2 comments:
That's funny that my mom never made that. I wonder why. When we'd get colds, she'd always give us lemon honey tea. But I like the idea of sliced ginger too. I hoped you enjoyed your tea. : )
Enjoyed the tea is an understatement, it stopped my cold mid stride and cured me by morning... I am going to bottle this elixir and make a fortune.. ;-)
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