July 11, 2018

The hibiscus begin to bloom in their pastel variety.

Sam and I have drinks at Little Jumbo. He needs to hear what I think, which is that the crossroads where he now stands is joyful, in that it is hard to imagine how any road he goes down will go wrong, and if it does, it is but a short trip back to the starting place. Excellent conversation, maybe the most fulfilling we’ve had. He is careful to let me know– what with his travels-- it may be a long time before we can meet again.

After two promises broken by others, Steve the pond guy arrives and mucks out the filter with his hands, and the pond motor is as good as new. I should have seen that coming; the issues that disturb me most are usually nothing at all. He runs a rock shop on Hendersonville Road.