Ragdale Residency 2017: Day Nine

Time: Sunday. Early, early riser leaves the comfort of a bed and ambles on to the studio to get some work done, or continue with sleep. Time is precious to the sleep deprived. Count me in. I do not know this pilgrimage of quiet seconds emptying into a forever lake, a cauldron rising from the center of the earth, moving toward eternity.
Heart-shaped bird's nest on the porch at Friends Studio

Heart-shaped bird's nest on the porch at Friends Studio

Space: I know that 5 am isn't too early for some folks. I am not one of them. I crawl into bed in the studio loft, hoping to get more sleep, but already the sun is pushing down against the glass of the rectangular skylight, just a few feet above my head. I think of many things, of poets, musicians, wordsmiths, lovers, birds, because Sunday morning is remarkably quiet. Already the kitchen in Ragdale house is showing signs of activity. Today is the scheduled pot luck arranged by us residents at Ragdale, which I will miss because Cynthia and I are attending a lovely dinner outside at the Broten's in the next town. Really looking forward to that. Their daughter Christine will also come up from Chicago, and she, a promising Art Director, is a current student of mine from the Chicago Portfolio School. Heart: I post this image of a heart-shaped birds' nest resting on a corner of the porch because its form and essence is stunning at first glance; it isn't being inhabited by the birds now, and appears to have dropped from a joist of the porch roof above a while back, although I cannot determine when, and saved by someone, perhaps a former Ragdale resident. What is the history of this nest? Did it leave behind little victims? The heart shape is natural, but clearly a shape pressed in by something, the fall itself? If so, this is too sad. Or is this a sign of human intervention, an artist imposing human affection on the inanimate. ~Ignatius

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