A Touch of Cinnamon in the Filter
First: thank you to everyone who reached out about the pups. I am very happy to report that they have all found their forever homes!
Mama Pup: now Scarlett
Sister Pup: now Mila
Brother Pup: now Sherlock Bones 😂
A few weeks ago, I was onsite with a dear client in the midwest and staying at a tiny, quaint bed and breakfast nearby. When I checked in, I told the owner that I wouldn't be joining for breakfast since I would be heading out early the next morning.
When she asked if I'd like breakfast to go (so kind!) I said, just some coffee please.
“What time?” she asked.
“Well, what time do you usually wake up and start making coffee?” I asked in return.
My real answer to the question would have been something like 4 am, but this was a tiny place. The owner was also the inn keeper and the breakfast maker and the coffee preparer and probably the cleaner too. There wasn't anyone working nights or early mornings.
“Usually around 6,” she said, “so how about 6:30?”
The next morning, I woke up early to do some work and review my notes for the leadership team offsite I was facilitating that day. I found myself looking at the clock with excitement as the time neared 6:30. At 6:30 on the dot, I opened the door to find a carafe of coffee sitting in a wicker basket with a single cup, on top of a napkin. The joy!
Upon taking my first sip, I wondered if it was perhaps the best coffee I had ever tasted.
By my second and third sips, I was convinced that it was. It was smooth and dark and hot and not at all bitter, and by many coffee standards, it was pure perfection.
I found myself thinking about the coffee later that day, to the point that I texted the owner of the B&B after my offsite to ask her about it.
“Would you be open to sharing what coffee you use, and how you brew it?” I asked.
I was wondering what type of specialty local coffee it might have been, and was sure she must use a percolator to make it so smooth.
Instead, she texted me this photo:
This exquisite, perfect, specialty coffee that I was sure was locally roasted and brewed with a percolator was Folgers, brewed in a regular old coffee machine, with “some rather strong cinnamon in the bottom of the filter before putting the grounds in.”
I was shocked.
I also found this hilarious for all of the reasons you might imagine.
And, it reminded me of something we talk about here often —the fact that joyful moments don't need to be expensive or fancy or elaborate. That creating connection with team members or neighbors can happen in small but impactful moments that aren't reliant on a budget or a project plan.
The owner of the B&B had managed to create an elevated-feeling coffee experience with a touch of cinnamon in the filter and beautiful presentation.
Have you recently experienced any moments of delight that were rooted in simplicity?
Or, do you have your own version of a “touch of cinnamon in the bottom of the filter” that is part of your own secret sauce?
Reflections
What can it look like to create joy and connection through small, everyday moments?
What is my personal version of a “sprinkle of cinnamon at the bottom of the filter?”
Where could things be simpler?
