Slow tea · Shade-grown · Hand-gathered
Teas that grew where the light arrives late.
Steeped in rain, shadow and patience.
Our story
We travel to the old, wet corners of the world — misted ridges, cedar groves, terraces swallowed by fern — and bring back only the leaves that were never hurried.
Each tea in our house comes with a tale: who picked it, which rain fell on it, what the hillside smelled like at dawn. Pour a cup and the forest comes with it.
The collection
The ritual
Rinse the pot with water just off the boil. Let the clay remember warmth.
Two minutes, maybe three. Listen to the rain on the window and do nothing at all.
Hold the cup with both hands. Notice moss, smoke, rain, and what comes after.
“In the forest, nothing is in a hurry,
and yet everything is accomplished.” — old tea-picker’s saying
The tea house
Low lamps, long benches, a wall of living moss. Tastings every evening, and the kettle is never cold.
Thank you — we’ll send word when the next leaves arrive. 🍃