Our last evening with Kate was very pleasant, because I could put off thoughts of saying goodbye. Logan (5) and Bob came across the street to visit for a while on the porch. The young boy supplied power for the trains, since the transformer caught fire a few days ago. Living in the mountains can be very exciting at times.

This morning I heard an alarm at 5:15 which I presumed was Kate’s, so I got up. Everyone appeared to be asleep. By the time I dressed for walking, John was up, followed by Kate. She had packed the car last night and left after a light breakfast. We had two quick goodbyes, after which I started walking. The hardest goodbye was the third — waving as her car disappeared down the street. I had an hour then to try to concentrate on all the good times we had while she was here.

I’d pegged Kate’s leaving as the time to attack the climbing hydrangea, which we have watched not bloom for two summers. Internet instructions said to cut back in late June or early July. As John, Nate, and I had breakfast on the porch, I decided I might as well be truly miserable. Out came the loppers and clippers. There is nothing like gardening to make the rest of my life seem to be a delightful dream. I wonder if taking off my glasses would help. You finish one job, and your eyes wander a bit, luring you to yet another rogue plant that needs to be curbed. The quick answer is no, because I’m so blind I might cut off a toe instead. I allotted ten snips for the wisteria and removed low branches from the crepe myrtle at the front. I hope super gardeners Amy, Shawn, and Beth will give me a virtual pat on the back. For immediate gratification, I should have taken before and after photos.

Found a picture from a month ago and ran outside to record today’s hack job. I can’t see much change, certainly not a half hour’s sweat difference.

Golly Pete!  I don’t think the clothes pins changed, either.