The guest-posted Diva Challenge this week is to Bring Your Own Beverage. And what a delight that invitation is - it feels like permission to be a child again, to play with my food, to make a mess, to make things up as I go along.
I'm English - I bracket sections of my day between cups of tea. I don't have blue blood but significant traces of tannin surely run through my veins. The first cup of today, we save a teabag. I plonk it down on a round of paper - once, twice. It makes strange rose-like imprints - ghost roses, or fading photos of continents long lost beneath the seas. I squeeze three drops and let them sit before running them off the paper - far more Miss Marple than Jackson Pollock. And finally I tear open the bag and scatter some leaves on the paper. Later it is dry, I brush off the leaves and take up my pen - ready to read my own fortune in the patterns left behind.
The bag-printed rose islands seem too precious to overload with tangles. I decide to merely aura them and anchor them with a stem. A cluster of Pozer works well over the leaf-tinted area. I think of how the touches of colour look like real-flowers, the way nature does random so well. And those drips turn into wonderful Zingers - if you could shake them you would hear them rattle - dried and full to bursting with seeds ready to fall and grow next year's dreams. A little border to hold it all in place and I'm done. I sit back and sigh and feel as if I've just enjoyed a good cup of tea.