I seriously thought I was past all this: Ahhh teapots!

A long time ago I collected teapots. I had to give it up. There were two really good reasons:

1. Teapots—the really interesting ones—can get expensive.
2. Teapots take up a lot of space, especially if displayed.

Once, I walked away from a pair of teapots that were somewhere like $130-$150 apiece, because I realised how nuts it was to buy them. At that time I couldn't afford decent food. But I've mourned those "missing" pots ever since. Really though, it was the most sane decision.

Then I fell in love with, and married, a person who likes an orderly, uncluttered home. I found myself choosing to collect things that might be managed within a personal space. You know, like a library. And teapots did not fit that criteria.

All was well, until today, when I escorted my mother into the Fredericton Hospice Boutique to look for "wooden horses of the right size" (the apple doesn't fall far from the tree). I mooned over a couple of dozen beautiful teacups (also a rather pathetic obsession) and yet was able to set them back down in place. But when I saw this pot, no. I just couldn't.

I spent $4 to make it mine. I've lost almost nothing in that transaction.

Now, I only just got it, and I haven't really confirmed anything yet, but it looks and feels like a Yixing clay teapot. They have a feel, you know. It's different from other pots.

For the record, these pots are wonderful pieces of art (or craft, depending on your view of use v aesthetic) and are held in high esteem by tea lovers (and collectors). Here's a page that describes them:

https://verdanttea.com/yixing-clay-tea-pot-introduction/ 

There are a lot of fakes and a lot of kinda-but-not-really cheats on the Yixing clay pot, so I can't just go full-tilt squee—but it's lovely enough that even if it's not authentic, it still gives me the vapours to hold it.

I don't expect anybody who doesn't collect pots to understand that at all. It's cool. We can still be friends.

In the meantime, here's a little exploration of the pot.

The underside is stamped thusly: 

What you might notice is a little white mark on the rim. I worried a bit at the store that this was an indication of a regular porcelain pot designed to look like a Yixing (yet bought the pot, anyway) but that hard little bit came off when I vigorously used my thumbnail on it at home.

The first photo above shows the foliage design on one side of the pot. There's writing on the other:

Like I said, it's been too soon for me to have worked out anything regarding this pot. So, I don't know what those markings mean, yet.

I would like to note that the pot is not perfect. It has little shifts and differences. Notice where the lid meets the rim of the filter. (that ring between the lid and the pot is the loose tea filter you can see in the next shot). So, it's not factory-perfect and that can speak to a crafter's hand. Is that intentional as a means of fooling a tourist? I don't know.

Of course the pot has been used. It was in a used-goods store. So the marks on the inside don't bother me.

Prior use can help identify these pots. They're porous, so absorb tea and should have the smell of what's been steeped in them before. There was a slight aroma, but I suspect this pot has been dry for several years.

Should I use it? I don't know yet. What I'm not going to do is wash it. These pots are never supposed to be washed with soap. They can be boiled, or rinsed with boiling water. I have more research to do about their care before I commit.

In the meantime, I'm just happy to have found something that has made me this giddy without compromising. Real, fake, cheat, I don't care, really. It's a lovely piece. I'm going to find a place for it either in use as a teapot, or on one of my shelves…somewhere easily within reach for when I want to hold it.