Could we possibly plan a more perfect weekend than last. I did some gardening sitting on a stool and simply enjoying the days. I don’t think I actually accomplished anything worth mentioning. I pulled a few weeds and snipped deadheads from a stand of large blossomed zinnias. Violet made herself a functional hammock from an old clothesline that actually held her weight. I love the ingenuity of children. She worked for a long time and rarely asked for assistance.

I picked four softball-sized celeriac. I love it, the flavor of celery without those pesky strings. They are a pain to peel but worth the effort. I know Andrew grew them last year and offered them at the Whippoorwill Farm CSA. I tossed big chunks into the crock pot alongside garlic and a roast from last year’s pig.

Speaking of crock pots, allow me to digress and update everyone on my new little rescue dog, Lucille. She is tiny, only 25 pounds. She jumps into the bed of my pickup truck with the tailgate up. We joked that she must be a springer. Well, it wasn’t so funny when she jumped onto the kitchen counter, removed the top from the crock pot and ate about two inches of pork grease. Luckily, the food had been refrigerated and I planned to deal with the pot in the morning. I’ve had dogs for six decades and never experienced such a thing.

This is one of the problems with rescue dogs. Poor thing, most likely had to fend for herself in the past. At any rate, I purchased a shock mat from the Bargain Box — no more Mrs. Nice Guy. It seems to have solved the problem.

We have started putting up deer fencing at the job sites. The rascals are at it already. The minute the customer gets in the ferry line, Bambi calls in all his friends.

My field peas are over a foot tall. Hopefully, I will till them into the soil soon before they freeze or dry up. They are an excellent source of green manure. We eat the shoots when they are about two inches tall. I plan to plant the area with garlic. Not to worry, there is plenty of time to get the garlic cloves into the ground. I’ve had a successful crop in August planted. The previous December, after breaking up the bulk, they should be planted pointy end up at least four inches apart. Each of those cloves will produce a nice bulk by next mid-summer. An added benefit is their ability to repel moles and voles over the winter.

If I am able to hack my way into my potato patch, I should start harvesting. I let the weeds get totally away from me. The potatoes themselves are under hay and not too weedy but the edges of the patch are a disaster. Luckily, as I age I’m less hard on myself and able to shrug of the unimportant. This ability has taken a lifetime.

I am thoroughly impressed by the efforts of the person at the blinker crossroads. The person kept two tiny gardens alive and producing in the middle of the median strips. I noticed there are now a couple of artemisia on the Barnes Road side toward Oak Bluffs. That particular artemisia known as wormwood is very aromatic and not in a good way. I believe it is the herb from which absinthe is made. There is an old hymn by Edward Perronet in 1779 “all hail the power of Jesus’ name” with these lyrics from verse three: “Sinners who can never forget the wormwood and the gall.” I have no idea what gall is but I think wormwood was flavoring the drink offered to Christ on the cross. I love historical and/or theological references to common plants.

It’s about time some lefties started protesting. How ironic that Eric Cantor refers to them as a “mob” occupying Wall Street. There certainly was plenty of Republican and Fox News support of the early Tea Party antics a couple of summers ago. One man’s mob is another’s democracy in action. I am following the events with great interest. Oh, to be young and passionate again!