Poetry 'n Prose

The Rural Retreat

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.

By 67paintings

A dialectical site of poetry, painting and the odd musical excursion into the unknown.

10 replies on “The Rural Retreat”

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 :)

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.

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