Yesterday's post about leaping, reminded me of this wonderful photo taken by my brother, Chris. it was 1969 and we were visiting my friend Tammy, who lived in an Italian villa outside of Florence. She is the lovely little girl in tights and Sunday dress, leaping from rock to rock. My brother, David looks like a young Italian boy. I sort of ruined the photo by wearing my striped gondolier's shirt, with my skirt and sagging knee socks. But I remember the magical setting. We started off at the creek, leaping about, like small fairies hidden in tall grass. Then we ended up diving into haystacks in a nearby field. I wish I could go back to that storybook day. Magical Places: Summer St. in Grinnell, Iowa at dusk with lightning bugs... St. Mark's Square in Venice at 2 am, with only the sound of our footsteps and cooing pigeons... December in St. Louis, when Xmas lights glowed under layers of snow and ice, turning bushes into illuminated, dotted mushrooms.
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