Minds meant to have met

Dinner last night was a generational mix ranging from 21 to 65 years old, all positioned around the dining table in no particular order. I landed in a seat rounding the head of the oak slab which I only intended to rest my scarf on as the weather has dipped to temperatures cold enough to allow me to currently see my breath while I sit outside in an indigo dyed wicker chair on the cracked stone sidewalk watching vendors construct their stands for the Sunday morning market.

Josie, the resident artist in town from Australia was to my right, her white hair tucked under another girthy headband she crocheted herself. Her husband, Chris, leaned across her to continue our conversation about his niche hobby clipping horse hooves, and she carriered on with Rivers directly opposite about Repositioning Cruises (a travel concept so interesting I paused to make a note in my phone). Everyone around the table was an artist, and not just in what they create, but in the way they think, the conversations they have, the company they keep.

We all made dishes to share, and representing a dozen or so different cultural interpretations of our limited array of local farm foods, painted a colorful palette running the length of the table, and not just from the red wine I tipped over when I first arrived.

The last visiting artist, Chaco, wove yarn floor to ceiling in the dining room, covering the windows so that the sun cast thin shadows along any faces turned towards the western wall. Intricately strung flower petals hung overhead like delicate wind chimes, and if we nudged the table away I’d imagine the scene to be set for a wedding isle in Gary’s massive dining room.

Conversation was of concepts where at least one person was of expert knowledge, and the others muffled their input with mouthfuls of wine until arose an opportunity to contribute or rebut. We went on for hours, everyone with a unique chance to chime in. My feeling in the end was that no matter what was or could have been discussed, the greatest thing I shared was simply the company of minds meant to have met.



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