Addison sat happily among a pile of rocks, putting a few in a cup and then dumping them out. When I walked out to see him, the nanny started claiming she’d seen this gorgeous flower in the neighbor’s yard. This nanny almost walks without touching the ground when she talks about planting or blooms or roots. She waved me over to look.

I went over to the wall and stood on my tiptoes to peek over the wet cement wall. I expected to see another flower I’ve seen a million times before. There is that first moment when I see something I’ve never seen before. Whether it’s a piece of art, or a new face, or a couch I’m thinking about buying. If I quite my mind long enough to stop arguing with my past and wrestling with my future, I tune into this frequency that aligns me with this PLACE. I think it’s the place flowers come from and trees and children and baby bunnies. Pure ISness, for lack of a better word.

For a second, I saw snow fairies and ice castles. Before the nanny spoke again, in those few seconds, I was in that place where I don’t want to do anything or be anything or name anything. This beautiful crisp white heliconia hid in the depths of a moist, small garden. Even my nanny had never seen it before. We turned our attention back to Addison and went on with the afternoon.

As we were about to leave, the nanny walked onto the patio with two of the stalks from this plant in her hand. The theory goes in Costa Rica, stick it in the ground and it shall grow. And I’ve got to say that works almost 80% of the time. And when it doesn’t work, you just try it again.

So now, with the help of that PLACE, and a good hole I shall dig, I will have icicles growing in my yard.