When a tea kettle captivates my senses.
I rely on you every morning to be sitting in the corner of my counter, ready to boil my water for coffee. Elegantly you stand in your place. Your blue and white pattern, crisp and bold against your ceramic surface. The gracefulness and curvature of your spout lifting up to the ceiling, ready to pour liquid.
When I take the smoothness of your handle in my hand and lift you from your base, I am able to feel the full weight of your burden.
The soft gurgle of water sounds as you gently come to a boil. There is a sense of moisture in the air. It clings to my nose and mouth. So much so, I can taste the heat as you begin to boil.