All poets dreams of this:
the meadow stained glass,
sweeping hills in the background,
a horse standing for freedom,
a garden of sultry roses,
the simple life.
A melting pot of paint, poetry and philosophy
A melting pot of paint, poetry and philosophy
All poets dreams of this:
the meadow stained glass,
sweeping hills in the background,
a horse standing for freedom,
a garden of sultry roses,
the simple life.
I can almost see it, very well done
The life I long for.
It’s a good life – the horse could amble up to inspect us and even slobber our faces – it’s a good life.
Ah! The simple joys… what a sunny wonderful image you build. :)
:) I’m longing for little countryside escapism to restore my spirit of living. Nature does this in bucket loads. Do you have any special retreat?
Thank you for your comment, its nice to have that support.
My mother’s home … in a small chaotic town (no nature, or farm I’m afraid). It is still a slower pace of life and the loving care only a mother can provide (besides all the traditional Indian food I get to eat, and which I’m so bad at cooking myself)…:)
Hahaha no one can cook like our mothers, I don’t know about you but I wished I’d taken more notice in the kitchen when I was younger.
I’m getting there though, being somewhat more proficient with making curry as I get older. It’s never too late I guess. Anyway I’m writing about two influential chefs at the moment. Literally cooking up a storm you could say :)
Will it get posted here on your blog… about these chefs? Would love to read about them.
Yes the little two chef observation will land up here (eventually) is one that illustrates the unique human spirit wonderfully. At least its has shaped my thinking around the ‘static’ and ‘dynamic’ quality of cooking.