Last Saturday morning the thunderstorm and 45-minute deluge were memorable. I had flashes of lightening right in my kitchen. Terrifying could be one word to describe the experience. The pathetic, fat, ancient dog had to be held and comforted the entire time ... poor guy! I read somewhere that part of the issue for dogs aside from the noise is that the electricity makes their hair stand on end. Who knew? Supposedly, rubbing them with dryer sheets will make it more bearable for them. I did not have such a product as I have never owned a dryer.

Early on in my column writing career I believe I talked about my distaste for the appliance. My maternal grandmother, Nonnie, is at fault. She refused to use hers — a gift from her children in the 1950s. I can still picture her hanging her wash in a pair of “arctics” with her stockings rolled to her ankles. Arctics are rubber overshoes with a big zipper down the front for those of you who don’t know or remember. Hanging laundry outside is pleasurable. The birds sing and I’m alone, not to mention things smell great. The sun is a wonderful bleaching agent so not only is energy saved but chemical products as well.

It is unpleasant to be working at someone’s garden, head down in the weeds and have dryer vent air blowing at me. This is just the ranting of a nutcase but my electric bill is manageable.

The incredible downpour — a full two inches — last week ruined all my irises and peonies. They look like soiled tissues. Most of the roses seemed to hold their own since they were barely out of the bud stage.

The roses are particularly nice this year. There seem to be an incredible number of the muddy red climbers. It is my understanding that they are the root stock onto which the hybrids are grafted. If the hybrid dies the root throws out red — its true nature. I have a job with a long pergola of New Dawn pinks. Every one of them has sprouted a red skirt. It is quite striking. I should cut them out but cannot bear it.

It’s happened again. I am hopelessly behind in the vegetable patch. I have a few early tomatoes blooming and forming tiny fruit. Most, however, are still in the seed flats screaming for release and attention. Good thing we enjoy a long growing season here on the Vineyard. The peppers are great — blooming away. The eggplants have been ravaged by the hideous Colorado potato beetle. Caitlyn Jones mentioned that some potato farmers plant eggplant as a trap crop. I hate that.

I am always amused by typographical errors. Last week I wanted to say that unlevel planters and pots annoy me but it printed unloved. Guess that could work, as well.

Be happy you don’t have to eat at my house. I just make up recipes. The other day I picked some purple top turnips and early garlic. I was too tired and/or too lazy to really cook so I sauteed the two together with a little store-bought sundried tomato pesto and dumped the mixture onto a grilled cheese sandwich. It was actually quite tasty.

Speaking of tasty, my friend Phyllis, a terrific gardener, works for some Chilmark folks. They gifted her with the best date-nut bread ever. I’m dying for more.

I hate being uninformed. I’ve been too busy lately to follow the Israeli commando raid on the Turkish ship headed for the Gaza Strip. Emotions are running high over the event. I’ve followed the history of Israel since junior high. My friend Louise Danny had a copy of Exodus by Leon Uris. Her mother had blacked out parts she considered too “mature” for Louise. We promptly bought another copy and looked them up.

During the 1967 six-day war I was in college with some Lebanese friends. It was the first time I had any awareness of the Palestinian perspective. All these years later I still don’t have a clear opinion. It certainly seems to be a problem for American politicians. What a pity that some mispoken words have tarnished the brilliant career of Helen Thomas. It is odd that so-called journalists on Fox News can make equally distasteful remarks and never suddenly retire. I did admire her ability to hold the feet of presidents to the fire.

As a parting shot, you can’t make this stuff up. Elton John was the singer at the wedding of Rush Limbaugh. Go figure!