Ten minute tea with Afternoon Tea. Spend ten minutes with Afternoon Tea. In the time it takes to boil one kettle, and let one cup of tea steep, we will have your daily art + music fix covered. Take your afternoon break with our Afternoon Tea curators. Need an extra lump of sugar? One more sip? If you have five minutes more (or ten), we have one more hit.
Today’s tea + soundtrack + visuals curated by Rogan Mei.
Drawing from a life spent between wild northern landscapes and intimate moments of reflection, Rogan Mei returns with “Lefroy,” a hopeful and heart-pulling indie folk track about self-discovery, resilience, and return. Anchored in quiet emotion but expansive in imagery, the song is part meditative memoir/part mountain summit.
Inspired by a painting of Mt. Lefroy by Lawren Harris – viewed during a visit to the McMichael Gallery on the anniversary of his mother’s heart transplant – “Lefroy” emerged as a metaphor for personal reckoning. “As we stood looking at this mountain, I imagined myself climbing it,” says Mei. “The first line and melody just popped into my head, and I wrote the rest in the days that followed.”
The track’s evolution mirrors its lyrical arc. Originally longer and more subdued, “Lefroy” was restructured for live performance as part of Canadian Musicians Co-operative’s Showcase tour before being recorded for his upcoming Dickies Green Plaid Jacket EP. Rather than opt for a studio, Mei and his band recorded it in the house he grew up in – immersed in nature, memory, and intention. “Everything (except the female vocals) was recorded in the same room, by people I know, playing real instruments,” he says. “Very few records are made that way anymore.”
Stream + share “Lefroy” now:
From firefighting in British Columbia to writing songs in small-town Ontario, Rogan Mei has led a life defined by movement and meaning. With storytelling rooted in nostalgia, nature, and northern living, “Lefroy” marks a moment of arrival – both musically and personally.
Tea: Fresh Ginger + Honey
This is just always my go to tea. Usually I slice two long, kind of thick pieces off a ginger root, drop them in my titanium cup (the same one that’s blackened from all the campfires its sat in) and then scoop out a spoon full of local honey and stir to melt it in. The ginger is great for the immune system and the honey works wonders for my throat if I’m singing alot. No tea bag needed.
Song: Don’t Make Me Wait – By Saint Shepperd
Saint Shepperd is a young University of Toronto music grad I met last summer while playing with the Canadian Musicians Cooperative. These days, he plays in a bunch of bands—including my own—and he tracked violin for me on Lefroy. Also, he’s a huge tea drinker. The biggest.
I love Saint’s music in general. A lot of it is clearly influenced by the ’60s and ’70s, which is a refreshing contrast to the indie-folk I usually listen to almost exclusively.
But this song, Don’t Make Me Wait, keeps pulling me back—mostly because of the way it makes me feel. Like I’m walking the streets of Paris on a dreamy, dim-lit night, on a date with my girl.
Visual: Island Sunrise – By Shandelle Page McCurdie
I’ve spent a lot of time in the remote wilderness of Canada while working as a forest firefighter. As you can imagine, it could be a high-intensity gig at times. But every so often, before heading to the fireline, we’d catch glimpses of picturesque mornings—quiet, fleeting moments of calm.
Island Sunrise by Shandelle Page McCurdie reminds me of those mornings. There’s a stillness to it that settles something in me.
Years ago, I worked alongside Shandelle’s husband on the fireline—that’s how I was first introduced to her art. Since then, I’ve watched her work and her abilities evolve, which makes it all the more special to me.
A sunrise is such a fleeting thing, and the way Shandelle captures it—committing it to stillness—feels both beautiful and just. I’ve always believed those small moments of beauty are worth holding onto.
Tea + Me 