Tea and Tortoises, Ep. 4

Tea and Tortoises

Episode 4 Celebrating Arizona

From Tucson’s quirky gritty best to the refined relaxation of the Phoenician Resort, Julie and Lisa come up with reflections and t-shirt slogans.

Mug:Mimbreno

Chief Yellowhorse Lives On

Civility in a Saucer

by Lisa Schnebly Heidinger

That timelessness is much of the appeal of afternoon tea.  The water table may fall, different world leaders may horrify us.  Skin and hair will not always be as shiny and thick as they are today.  But there will always be afternoon tea, with many of the same trappings as Queen Victoria enjoyed, unaltered by microwaves, technology or time.  It is a reminder that all is not lost; that some things do remain the same in the ways that are most important.  

         When I look up from a plate of miniature sandwiches at the faces of the women with whom I am growing older, I still feel like a little girl at a tea party.  Worries are suspended; we are cosseted, away from all things plebian.  Afternoon tea gives us a brief shimmering golden time to see and feel only what is good and beautiful, fortifying ourselves to go out once again, and deal with the rest.

All rights reserved by author

Desert Gods

 by Julie Morrison

Where does a god of gila monsters go:

when grass replaces grit,

water withdraws from the wash—

as it’s sprayed on demand—

or saguaros are tortured as target practice?

Where does a wren nest

when an ache of space—

that used to burn clean—sweat clear—

is plowed, planted, peopled,

then asphalted to fester, foul

its own air with stored heat?

Is there a tortoise left to remember

how the gods once stormed—

dirt blown into billows,

shadow sucked from the ground

thunder wringing, whipping wind,

twisting sky like a sweaty towel?

Has the sacred learned to slither,

strike for tribute?

Has it softened, become snowflake fluff

of early creosote fruit,

or the down

of a rabbit’s raised ears?—

Are the worshipped

now walking courses

in pleated pants, cleats

clawing at ex-pat turf—

conversation reduced to swing—

having lost their grip?

Are the desert gods already gone?

Or going nowhere?

Or, have we as dwellers

Imported our deserts—

vast lack and fragility

without adaptation—

letting gods live large

on prayers for protection

from what we must solve

for ourselves?

Copyright 2025 Julie Morrison All rights Reserved.