Not expecting to find parking any closer to the festival, I decided to park on Elmwood and walk towards Main and Custer. It was over six blocks, for sure, to the churros stands and white tented booths where local artist-preneurs were talking up their work.

Usually, it seems that retuning home or to your car after an outing takes a much shorter time than getting to a destination. It’s as if anticipation can’t make your footsteps move fast enough when you’re going somewhere and time speeds up when you have nothing particular that you’re looking forward to.

When returning to my car, after a few rain-free hours at the Custer Street Fair, it seemed that an opposite law applied. It seemed to take much longer walking back to my car.

It was as if instead of fighting anticipation, the return trip just took longer because I was in the mood for LINGERING.

Both sides of the street were parked up and I may have walked a little slower not wanting to overshoot my car, but I think my pace had more to do with how much I enjoyed the sight and smells that came along with being no place in particular.

My friend would stop with me. We’d peruse the few wares on display on a front lawn as part of a yard sale or marvel at some kind or architectural element which was no longer fashionable.

“Look at the turret on that house,” we’d remark.

Then we came across a yard where assumed old hippies or artists lived. The owners had a tire decorated as a horse hanging from a tree, a most remarkable version of a swing, and in a mild state of disrepair near their front stairs (badly in need of a coat of paint) were two neutral colored planters – one depicting a face and the other just a smile.

We both wanted to take pictures. We were charmed.

Whether the contents of these pots were watered regularly or even if they held only good old Midwestern dirt, I loved the idea of smiling planters.

I loved thinking that people walking down the street, whether they noticed them or not, were being smiled at by slightly upturned clay lips.

What if everyone imagined that someone was smiling at them all the time?

I am conscious to look people in the eyes as I pass them. Sometimes, I consciously try to smile. It’s a very small gesture. I want to let people know I can see them. Even if I am preoccupied, I want to project my best energies to the world.

But there was something special about the experience of discovering these smiling planters.

Maybe this is some sort of self-centeredness, not just about their overflow of good energy, but when I see someone smile at me, I think they approve of me and it elevates my mood.

I got an idea of a game to play with myself.

I decided to imagine the world was full of yards with smiling planters, most of which I couldn’t see. but they were smiling all the time. Smiling at me, smiling at everyone. Remembering the surprise of tripping across these planters walking down Elmwood on the way back to my car made me happy.

It’s great to feel the blessings, the approval of someone else, or even being seen at a soul level. It makes you smile too.

Letting a smile from a random source help you generate your own smile is no small thing.