In Minneapolis I had a few favorite reading spots, chosen not only for the ambience of the destined location, but the route I had to take to get there. I love walking, especially through beautiful areas, and seeking out a “special spot.” I wasn’t literally invisible to the public in those spots, but in my mind I was and I would spend hours reading and writing and mulling and people watching

Today I decided to take a walk to a park I’d discovered a week or so ago, in hopes I’d find a new place to do the aforementioned activities and engage in a combination of contemplative and nonsensical thoughts.

So I followed a fenced garden, along which was planted a row of incredible and mysterious dark fuschia bushes…  when I turned the corner the inside of the fence was lined with the proud, tall faces of sunflowers.  Crossing the street from that garden led me to the park and inside of the park I found a bench sitting in the perfect patch of sunshine.

And the very best part of all is that while I sat and read my Roald Dahl book, and wrote in my journal, dragonflies kept landing on my shoes and on my hands…  they would sit for a few minutes and fly off due to a slight nudge on my part, only to be replaced by another a few minutes later…  and now, I am forever ruined for normal spots, that are not laced with sunflowers and inhabited by dragonflies….