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HUMOR | SATIRE
When You Live in the Middle of a Cornfield, Class Arrives in the Mailbox
Would you care for a spot of tea?
When you live in an area far removed from civilization, like the cornfields of Indiana, you take your culture where you can find it. In my case, it’s called the mailbox.
I just received an order of new teas I wanted to try, one called Gryphon and the other called Huntress. Sexy, huh?
Huntress is described thusly:
A sprint through the old-growth forest, lungs sharp, breath heavy. Each footfall stirs the scent of cold soil and detritus and brings the sound of snapping wood. A bowstring is drawn taut. Perhaps it’s an interior forest, what’s tracked a vital inspiration. Notes of crushed bergamot, lavender sprig, and cinnamon.
and Gryphon:
A luscious fusion of autumn fruits and spice that conquers the senses, boost immunity and digestive health, and sets the spirit alight. Notes of spiced yudzu, blood orange, fig, sweet cinnamon, and stewed cherry.
Now, who could resist that? Not I, apparently. I have no clue about yudzu, other than to think it doesn’t sound very nice, but anything that involves taut bowstrings, heavy breathing, and sets the spirit alight is like catnip…
