Home is a Mug of Coffee: Part 1
On the aromas of home.
Hello there! And welcome to Dandelion Seeds, an illustrated newsletter that’s hand-painted and hand-lettered, from my desk to yours.
I’m delighted to kick off a new essay series today — well, an essay that’s both old and new. It’s the companion piece to the first illustrated essay I ever created, “Home is a Cup of Tea,” and it also originally appeared on Longreads, back in 2018.
I’ve been wanting to republish it on Dandelion Seeds for a while, to bring all of my illustrated essays together in one place. And so for the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing the essay in three parts, starting with the prologue and Chapter 1 today.
I so hope you enjoy reading this story over the weeks to come — perhaps in your favorite cafe, with your favorite hot drink in hand ☕
With love,
Candace
Wow.... your illustrations are absolutely gorgeous. That Folger’s can! How funny though that shocking first taste. This is such a beautiful illustrated essay. Looking forward to the other installments.
The evocative artist Candace evokes, and having evoked, moves on. Nor all my Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all my Tears wash out a Word of it when I am evoked.
My first memory of the smell of the Devil’s brew was early mornings when my grandfather was on his way out the door for work.
I’ve enjoyed it with Bedouins in the desert, where coffee was more of a syrup than a beverage. I have enjoyed it chewy strong in Ethiopia and and in fact, any number of other places around the world where coffee is not timid.
I’ve enjoyed it with my old guy after I warned that “it doesn’t take much water to make good coffee.” I also learned by hard experience that Nescafé in packets is a different species from actual coffee.
But I was told, and believed, that I could never fully trust anyone who drank airline coffee or who ate those weapons grade croissants.
A person must set certain boundaries in life for the sake of decency.