Morning light hits the rows of glass jars like stained glass. Staff check each lid, stir through herbs to aerate them, and restock shelves with handwritten labels.
By noon, regulars arrive — Berkeley locals with notebooks, students discovering mugwort for the first time, old friends refilling their teas. The back drum tumbles a fresh batch of house blend while the air fills with rosemary and citrus.
Each order ends at the scale: ounces measured, bags sealed, names inked carefully. It’s small-shop rhythm — slow, precise, and full of conversation.
