So I was on vacation, from everything, just knocking around the city with my wife, in a kind of a long, soft bliss. It was 70 degrees and the deep heart of spring. Despite it being perfect out and the Sunday of Memorial Day Weekend we were alone in the second best Japanese Garden in the Twin Cities. Except, on that day, with the garden empty but for us, slightly hilarious geese, small yellow birds, paleolithic gargantuan turtles, and glimmering orange, white, and black carp with tails made out of angels' wings, it was the best Japanese Garden on the planet.
Standing there, looking at the feet of geese, or the thick carp, or nothing, I had an idea for a blog post. I wasn't trying, it just unfolded in my mind, an elaborate effortless bloom that had just been waiting for me in the air. "What a lovely blog post." I thought, as it unfurled in the breeze. "I hope I remember it."
I didn't, of course. But that doesn't mean it didn't happen.