Yesterday I got a call telling me that I had left my credit card down at a shop in the old pottery factory mall. I went down to retrieve it, not planning on doing any further shopping. But as we’re always on the lookout these days for a large kitchen cupboard, I noticed a new antique store and wandered in. No cupboards were to be found—but I was enchanted by an old diorama on display. It was a mini-replica of a Norwegian immigrant family’s one room cabin, with a covered bed in one corner, a great stone hearth-stove in another, a wooden table set for dinner in the middle of the room and colorful rugs on the floor and curtains at the window. I was just entranced by this vision of snug domesticity, the little doll figures busily at work. A small sign said that it had been on display at the old Minneapolis Public Library but someone had saved it before the building was demolished. And now it was on sale, in Red Wing. For $1595.00. There was a tiny urge to have it, but at that price reason swiftly swept the urge away. Besides, I would have needed a new house just to have space to display it. It was enough to have been enchanted by it for one afternoon.
Instead, I sighed and wandered over to a bookcase. Before I’d even had a chance to tilt my head to browse position, an old novel jumped out at me. It was as if there were a little Twilight Zone gnome behind the case, pushing out specific volumes for specific readers. “Did you see that?” I wanted to ask the other curiosity-seekers. It was the oddest thing.
The novel that leapt at me was called Bread into Roses and I decided to pay the $6 asking price simply because the title appealed to me. The book gnome got my attention, the title appealed, and now, having read the book, I've made a discovery that my have changed the course of my professional life.
Never underestimate the books that fate puts into your hands.
2:45:05 PM 
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