Minneapolis doesn’t win best park system in the nation just because of 7,000 acres of leafy bike paths, and waterways aren’t always great places to commune with nature while high as a kite. Of all the serene and solitary spots one can stumble upon, few are quite as perfect as the hillside steps behind the baseball field at Powderhorn Park, which slopes above home plate like an accidental riser. In summer, long grasses and fragrant wildflowers flourish. Families hauling coolers crowd the dugout below to cheer on players practicing in red-dirt-caked uniforms. Aluminum bats produce a satisfying metal clink, followed by the rapid peel of a myriad of languages driving the synergistic formation of put-outs and base hits. Where nature and logic meet, there’s no better place to consider life’s purposeful pattern. There’s no smoking allowed on park land, of course, so respect the kiddos and hit that blunt across the street.