Fall in New England is legendary. When we arrived here two weeks ago and saw muted colors around us, I feared my decades-long excitement had been fueled by hype. Two weeks later when peak colors hit, we were swiftly transported to a surreal world.
The sun pierces through to make the leaves translucent.
The foliage is like a gift from the Renaissance great masters.
The yellows engulf us like snowflakes on a crisp winter morning.
The young maple awakens the sky and warms the soul.
On a vivid Fall day, Neil insisted we visit a kombuchery, a kombucha tea distillery. Tarun and I froze. The last time we had kombucha tea, we both disliked it so much that we swore never to have it again. What’s to like about soap water mixed with rust?!
Neil’s evangelism about the distillery was hard to overcome. Trust me and try it, he said and so we did. The server at the distillery asked if it was our first time there. Indignantly I said, yes and we don’t like kombucha tea.
Note to self: shut up.
My challenge, said the server sweetly. She picked four brews for us. We sat in the sun drinking ginger, blueberry, apple cider, and peach kombucha tea and…we loved it! Each sip was amazing, bursting with flavors and a touch of carbonation. Neil grinned with a I-told-you look.
In that moment, I realized he was right to drag us to the kombuchery. I thought about how we make up our minds prematurely and shut ourselves to interesting experiences. I tipped my hat to Neil for insisting ”we try before we cry” - an oft-repeated line from me to the kids in their childhood.
This season in New England has renewed us with the views, the child becoming the parent, and fall colors colliding in our brews.
