Earlier this week I had a near-tragic experience with this teapot.
It’s a story that involves my mother and illegal drugs. I’ll get to that in a minute, I promise. But first, some history.
About a year ago my husband and I chanced upon this store and were immediately smitten. There were shelves of heavy, cast-iron teapots in a range of sizes and colors, and with various designs imprinted upon their rotund bodies. We saw an eye-catching blue pot with whimsical dragonflies. There was a rich orange-red vessel across which a dragon flaunted his curling tail. And the teas!
Green, white, black, oolong, mate, leaves, fruits, nuts, spices; fragrant blends in loose-leaf form ready for scooping into bags or tempting tins. We bought a few ounces, declared the store a new favorite and went home. The teas were delicious. We were hooked.
On Christmas morning our house reverberated with squeals of delight when I opened a gift from my husband. My very own teapot. The warm color and simple leaf design were perfect.
Now to my mom. A few days ago when I had my precious pot sitting out in the kitchen, my mom cornered me in another part of the house.
“Why does your teapot have marijuana leaves on it?
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Marijuana leaves. On your teapot. Did you not know what those are?”
“Mom, I wouldn’t know a marijuana leaf from a fig leaf!”
“Hmph! Clearly you don’t work in public schools.”
(Weakly) “But…J gave that to me for Christmas, he wouldn’t give me something with marijuana leaves on it. He must not have realized…”
“Please! He’s from California.”
“But…but, all their teapots are decorated with meaningful symbols, they’re not just random designs! Are you sure? I’m checking this out on the internet… ”
So I did. And look what I found.
I found marijuana leaves. Leaves that look so precisely like what adorns the circumference of my teapot that I no longer questioned my mom.
Once again, for comparison.
What I didn’t find: any indication that marijuana leaves are a symbol of courage, prosperity, hope, joy, peace, or the promise of a really great hair day once in a while.
I was deflated. Would this be a bad example for my children? Could I come up with some kind of righteous symbolism for the marijuana leaf before my eldest reached adolescence? Would that even be a good idea?
Fortunately, I mentioned my problem on Facebook and within hours a friend came to my rescue with links to photos and discussions proving that marijuana leaves can be difficult to distinguish from…Japanese maple leaves!
As soon as I perused the links, my common sense kicked in. Of course they could only be Japanese maple leaves. Because why on earth would marijuana leaves be on a Japanese teapot?
Lesson learned: Don’t listen to your loving, 60+, straight-as-an-arrow-mother when it comes to illicit leaves.
Once again happy to brew,