In addition to chasing birds, I’m always out looking for the perfect cup of coffee. I seem to have found a favorite at Birds and Beans café, and that’s the Nicaraguan Wood Thrush coffee blend. Armed with the coffee, I started chasing the perfect mug.
Earlier this summer, I had tea at my good friend Kerry Clare’s house and had the good fortune to drink out of a mug made by Diane Sullivan and decided right then and there that any morning coffee experience would be incomplete without a Diane Sullivan mug of my own. The stars finally aligned one weekend in September (which also happened to coincide with my birthday month—surprise!) when Sullivan exhibited her work at the Cabbagetown Craft show. So off I went in search of the mug I had held at Kerry’s house, and found a different but equally formidable mug of my own. The shape is perfect, the stencil reminds me of William Morris designs, and the size suits my daily dose of coffee consumption. My Nicaraguan Woodthrush morning coffee has found the ideal home.
I used to think that a mug was a mug was a mug – kind of how I had once erroneously assumed that all ducks were identical-looking creatures. How impoverished that former life of mine now seems! There is nothing wrong with buying mugs from Target, but I now think there’s something deeply amiss with the person who not only has generic made-in-China mugs but also walks by a congregation of ducks without giving them a second’s thought and operates under the assumption that they’re just ducks.
It’s hard for me to imagine my life when I hadn’t paused to consider the difference between a Bufflehead and a Mallard, or a Harlequin (Histrionicus histrionicus!) and a Wood duck! I suppose that’s what life is all about, really: the pleasure of learning to see the detail of things. And it’s a good reminder to me not to judge other hobbies or interests that I find dumbfounding: even powerlifting competitions have their share of fascinating moments, stylistic quirks, technical variations. And I say this having just sat through a 7-hour powerlifting competition in Oakville, where Mr. Birds and Words won a silver medal and lifted insane weights. His 255 deadlift would have seemed massive to me even if it had been in pounds, but the fact that the weight was in kilograms made it all the more superhuman. I’ll admit that the day might have been a colossal disaster and might have caused a rift in our marriage had I not been in the presence of the perfect latte (purchased at Kerr Street Café) and Ann Patchett’s Commonwealth (purchased in the amazing Archetype Books), whose meticulous prose not only saved me from stultifying boredom, but also reminded me to pay attention to every single detail.
Thank you Diane Sullivan for elevating my morning coffee experience to new heights, and thanks to Kerry Clare for setting the ideal-mug-chase in motion in the first place.
Now if only I could find an American Woodcock…