First Pipe of the Day?

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danimalia

Lifer
Sep 2, 2015
4,485
27,235
42
San Francisco Bay Area, USA
I usually wake up between 6:30-7:15 or so. I have a medication I take each morning where I am not supposed to eat, drink or smoke until 30 minutes after taking it. So between 30-60 minutes after I wake up is generally when I have my first smoke, with coffee or an energy drink. Always something fairly stout, though my nicotine tolerance and needs have decreased in the past few months. I used to require stuff like the Gawith's dark flakes or Bold Kentucky. Now I can get away with medium-strong blends like Pease's Triple Play, or C&D Haunted Bookshop, or Oak Alley, which is what I happen to he smoking this morning.
 

gemtx

Might Stick Around
Dec 20, 2020
63
177
Dallas, TX
I love smoking a huge bowl with a huge coffee - with chicory - in the morning, though this rarely happens. Incidentally, I buy pure chicory and blend with my coffee. The tin could be anything, depending on who will also take it in at some point second hand. I try to be kind.
 

Road To Pines

Might Stick Around
Sep 2, 2020
89
164
Ontario, Canada
My first smoke of the day usually comes as evening descends, and often enough as midnight turns. So it turns out my first smoke of the day often happens in the dark beginning of tomorrow's day.

But once in a while I steal out to local woods at 4 or 5am, rustle through the old leaves and nestle into the crook of a hardwood tree that with its roots forms a good cradle and windblock, and slowly, coldly, dawn as the world's dawning.

The pipe's lonely ember is a companion in the looming forest dark. Wisps of sidestream and rising smoke show me that the windy fates move mysteriously -- effortlessly -- to and from.

The rising of the day's light and the rising of the smoke are both so faithful and also so different in nature, as may be our aspirations. I feel a longing to be as stable as the day and as free as the self-disappearing smoke. Embraced unfailingly by tree, earth, and morning, the longing takes on the nature of unspoken prayer.

Sweet traces of smoke. It's as if longing and the arrival of morning are not two different things.