Ever have a shooting tea? Ours happened on a rather impromptu basis.
A couple of days ago my dear husband decided he was going to buy a handgun. Unlike my spiffy little Smith & Wesson .38 revolver, he wanted a .40 or .45 semi-automatic. Our local gun shop happened to be featuring a Sig Sauer at a good price. We researched it and found that it’s made in USA with some German and Italian components, and is a preferred weapon for the U.S. Navy, in part due to its reliability. So off we went to look at it.
Yes, it’s sure a nice firearm. Good weight, comfortable grip, excellent sight. My husband was sold. While he was filling out the registration paperwork, I browsed the Henrys, and asked the salesman if I could get a closer look at the .22 Lever Action model that I’ve had my eye on for a very long time. The moment I took it in my hands I could feel that it had been made just for me. I knew we could be very happy together.
But … We were here to buy a handgun, not a rifle, so I reluctantly handed it back, thanked the salesman, and said “Maybe for Christmas or my birthday.” And then my husband did one of those sweet, surprising things that remind me why I married him: He looked up from the registration form and told the salesman “I’ll take that one too.”
Wow. My husband just bought me a Henry – an iconic American-made firearm that, along with Winchesters and Colts, helped tame the American West. I’m now a part of history!
Naturally, we took our new guns out the next morning for some target practice. In our semi-rural neighbourhood, when one person starts shooting, pretty much everybody grabs their gun and before you know it you can hear shots echoing for blocks around. Kinda like when a dog starts barking and all the neighbouring dogs say “That sounds like fun” and they join in.
It was also our morning tea time. We set up a card table out in the yard with guns, several boxes of ammo, my husband’s glass mug of his favourite Söderblandning tea from Sweden, and a cozy-covered teapot and small glass cup for me. A shooting tea, if you will. What kind of tea did I choose? Gunpowder green of course. It seemed the logical choice.
We shot off a few rounds, sipped a cup or two, and started hearing echos of reports scattered throughout the neighbourhood. After almost an hour, we gathered up our things, stowed the guns safely away, and retired to the balcony to enjoy another pot of tea. And to admire our paper targets, full of well-placed holes. There were a few more shots in the distance, and then I guess everyone else decided it was enough shooting for today too.
I think we’ll probably have more of these shooting teas. Can’t get too much practice, you know. Or too much tea. Somehow I suspect that while our neighbours may have shooting parties, they don’t have shooting teas. One of these days we’ll have to invite them all to join us.
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