Summer Memories, Hamilton, Montana

While visiting the Bitterroot Valley this summer, my sisters enjoyed a small-town neighborhood ramble, during which they espied the enormous dahlia blossom pictured here. (Thanks, sis, for the guest photo!)
Knowing my sisters, if there was anyone in the yard, they also enjoyed a spontaneous over-the-fence chat. It's a gift we inherited - the rarity to ever encounter a stranger. In the hospital waiting room at 6 a.m. last Thursday morning, I said to my husband, sotto voce, "Don't look, but don't we know those people from somewhere?"  He didn't come up with anything, but it kept bugging me. So, once the nurse hustled him off for pre-surgery prep, I introduced myself to begin the conversation. Well, after running through possibilities, sure enough, we hit upon a work-related commonality!
While I can strike up a conversation with most anyone, I'll never aspire to the 6-degree mastery my mother had. An Alberta license plate in our Montana town was always irresistable. And inevitably, she uncovered a mutual connection. Even at 6 billion plus inhabitants, it's still a small world, after all.