After a few hours of raking leaves, usually right before the blisters broke open, my Mom would always call me in to have some hot Russian Tea. I'd take off my shoes and jacket by the door and go into the "den" where she would have a small fire in the fireplace and I'd feel special and grown-up when she'd hand me the "magical elixir". I'd warm back up and daydream of Russian Princess' drinking the same tea from dainty little ornate cups...
My Mom would make the Russian Tea Mix when I was at school and I never could get her to tell me what was in it.
She would just smile and ask if it tasted all right. It sat beside the jar of Tang that made me dream of being an astronaught.
Maybe it was My Mom's wooden spoon that carried the magical something that transported me from a grumbling, cold, tired little urchin to a content, happy "little bit". Maybe all the Mom's of the world have that same magic?
Do they still make Tang?