Favored

I have had a history of favorite places, over the years.

Way back when, before I left New York City, I had a favorite place in Van Cortlandt Park. It was a grove of tulip trees, and when I went for hikes, in what was actually an urban forest, I always made sure to walk slowly through and appreciate the tall and graceful trunks of the mature trees.

Later on the Rienzi Coffeehouse became my favorite place, the folklore was that if you sat at one of the small chess tables near the entrance the person you most needed to talk with would come in to see you. I certainly met many intrersting people there, and I still miss it.

Being a Pious Itinerant puts a hurt on getting too hung up on one place. If I had to pin it down, I would say my friend’s crash pad on Grove Street on Boston’s Beacon Hill. Over the years, it was a transient home, the locus for wild events, parties, and outrageous friends.

When I began to “clean up my act” I found the central courtyard at the Boston Public Library to be one of the most peaceful locations for reading or contemplation.

These days, I’d have to say my favorite place is the little woodland garden outside my door or my vegetable garden adjacent to it. The nice thing about this is that I only have steps, not miles, to cover to get there. A close runner up is, of course my greenhouse workshop – a bit sloppy, crowded, but hard to beat as a place to create.