Ragdale Residency 2017: Day Eight

Time: Saturday. Time hangs between the dream and dreamer, a lustful silence mocked by birds in blue and white, cardinal red, earth brown; the hungry growl of yard machines and sleeplessness. You do not know the wave of the future, but it begins here, thankfully, not posthumously, but in the sunlit caverns of thought and experimentation, quietly alive in each room. Listen, those rhythms, literary and artistic, both doused in research, overflowing with honey spun from language and matter, mixed media. The paper corset from the corner of my eye, sketches on her wall.
Spicy Korean, with brown rice, bok choy, egg, and okra.

Spicy Korean, with brown rice, bok choy, egg, and okra.

Space: Kitchens of Ragdale—aromas and dirty dishes. A day off can be anywhere on these grounds. Do something, anything, play your guitar, sing. Read, read, read. Czeslaw Milosz: "The Gates of the Arsenal" is tender and compelling, from Paris 1934. The poem is nourishment.
A Korean dinner, going paleo

A Korean dinner, going paleo

Heart: Missing Linda's food on the weekends. She cooks dinner for more than a dozen residents at each session on weekdays (not an easy task, I'm sure), and somehow conjures up a delectable spread to meet the varied food restrictions of the group. In this case, paleo-pescatarian is the leading food choice, uh...which has something to do with yours truly. Nut allergies abound, and meat and egg restrictions persist. But drink flows instinctively each evening, and the volume of conversation at the table rises quite nicely and rapidly while we all serve and eat and serve again. We're clapping for Linda, and rightfully so. I don't believe I've seen a single wheat product on the table, although there's a meat dish at times, and a variety of cookies and candy do get passed around. Time hangs around masterfully in my bowl of vegan broth and brown rice. ~Ignatius

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