I’m the queen of both superlatives and repetition. I know I’ve said this countless times, why stop now?

Gardening is nothing more than observation and recognition.

This past week I spent time wandering around looking for tiny plants that have reseeded in the vegetable garden. I found three kinds of lettuce — red, romaine and black-seeded Simpson. They were in paths and sides of beds. Some were mixed with red Russian kale. I promptly transplanted as many as possible into the hoop house. Hopefully, they will come along by Christmas.

It is difficult to get anything really happening before the winter solstice. The diminishing daylight is hard on plants. After New Year’s, things take off if somewhat protected from the extreme cold.

It will freeze in the hoop house at night but warms up enough — even in February — during the day to pick a salad.

Another remarkable discovery this week was a tiny begonia. A seed from last year’s window boxes must have fallen and took a year to germinate. Nature is grand, but I’m pleased with myself that I noticed.

I admit, I’m crazy about begonias — not the big, tuberous ones, but the basic bedding types. They can be purchased in the spring in six packs and are completely reliable all summer and fall right up until a hard freeze.

I bring quite a few inside for the winter. I whack them way back and pretty much ignore them in a back room. By spring they are ready to perform once more.

I continue to eat a few Alpine strawberries every day. They never stop producing until the bitter end — only a few at a time, but always enjoyable.

I stopped by the Winter Farmers’ Market at the Agricultural Hall on Saturday. I bought some enormous leeks and some lovely fennel bulbs. It was great to see all the Island folks emerging after a long, busy summer. The market takes place on Saturdays from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m.

On Sunday late afternoon I was walking the dog on Music street. As I rounded the corner at the Duys farm, I saw something you don’t see every day. A large group of male turkeys (perhaps 20 individuals) had stopped, all facing the same direction. The setting sun shone through their waddles all exactly the same. It was positively mesmerizing. Even the dog stopped to notice and did not bark. By the way, the little thing on the top of their beak that elongates when a female is around is called a snood. It changes color to blue and red — weird!

Where was I? Oh, yes, garden observations. I’ve been hesitating cleaning up the beds since there are tons of birds enjoying all the seed heads.

The low light midday and the clear crisp weather makes for outstanding color in what remains blooming. I still have great dahlias. The trick is to keep them deadheaded. Once a sizable number of spent flower heads start forming seeds, the plant will stop flowering. The deadheads are triangular while the new buds are more circular. I just snip and drop.

One year I had a bouquet of dahlias on the Christmas table. Usually, we’re lucky if they make it to Thanksgiving.

This past week was the 100th birthday of Jonas Salk. I was a polio pioneer in 1952. We (all the second graders in the country) were given either the vaccine or a placebo. I remember receiving nine shots that year. My parents were pretty happy. One of my first grade classmates died from the disease.

We weren’t allowed to play outside in August during the so-called dog days of summer.

Here it is a lifetime later and, thankfully, no one even knows about iron lungs anymore!