Onions Everywhere

Mother Nature is having quite a summer. There have been fatal earthquakes, floods, droughts and hurricanes worldwide. Every time I see another news story, I am profoundly grateful for our conditions here on the Vineyard. Now, granted, I do a fair amount of complaining about the heat and humidity.

Speaking of complaining, my vegetable garden has caused considerable grumbling. I could never invite any serious gardener over. Most of my harvesting is a result of a decent memory. Considering how dry it has been, the weeds don’t seem to mind. Many are more than thigh-high. Nevertheless, I was able to pull a winter’s worth of onions. They are strewn on every horizontal surface in my kitchen, including on the floor. Most years I let them dry in the greenhouse, but I fear it’s much too hot in there. I grew two varieties — Patterson and Cortland that are reliable keepers.

I do love Ailsa Craig, a sweet large type, which needs to be used before Christmas. Some years I have enough of them for pickling and freezing. This year I’ll be lucky to have enough for fall meals. They are much smaller than I had hoped. I simply did not water enough in June and July. Most of my garden failures are my own fault. To wit: one day I left the gate open all day. Deer ate the tops of all the green beans. The good news, however, is that I replanted a week ago and within a few days they are up.

One the job sites there is endless dead heading and leaf pulling. I’ve noticed some places where folks simply pull the spent Shasta Daisy flowers, leaving the bare stem. I promise no public shaming, but the plant will look great until frost if the dead stalk is cut to the ground into the new foliage. Sorry, but they won’t rebloom anyway. They, like many things, need to be fully enjoyed at the time.

I prefer the P.G. hydrangeas more than the commonly and over-used blue ones. It helps to have taken high school Latin— P.G. is short for Paniculata grandiflora meaning big flower as opposed to Paniculata macrophylla (Big Leaf).

White flowers are particularly beautiful on a cloudy day. Buddleja aka Butterfly Bush can use weekly dead heading to keep it blooming and attractive. I’ve noticed some hummingbirds enjoying the blossoms along with butterflies.

While in traffic (endlessly) at the Triangle entering Edgartown, there is plenty of time to enjoy the trumpet vine on the Square Rigger. I am amused how crabby folks are in lines of cars. We all know what can happen especially on cloudy days. Perhaps staying in a vacation home playing board games would work?

Forgive me for personal anecdotes, the situation with the U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln is sad and certainly alarming for family members of the sailors on board. Our President and defense secretary are not helping, as usual, with their inability to address any criticism ever. When my Dad was 20 years old, he signed up for the Navy right after Pearl Harbor. He served on ships the entire war. As was the custom of most men of his generation, he never talked about it. But one night, he told my children this story: It was a stormy night in the North Sea. The ship’s cook came up on deck eating a ham sandwich, said “It’s been nice to know you” and jumped off into the stormy ocean. For the first time ever, Dad got emotional about his war experiences.

The term PTSD wasn’t used until Vietnam. Those who serve deserve the upmost respect. Never forget DJT called them suckers and losers!

This article appears in August 21, 2026.