When it comes to birds, what I don’t know is a lot. I keep promising myself that I will take up bird watching when I’m old. That train has left the station.

I’ve had three pairs of osprey circling my big vegetable garden for over a week. There is no nesting pole nearby nor is it close to water. They have been yelling at each other. I hope they do not frighten away the red-tailed hawks as I am counting on them to dispatch a few rabbits.

The songbirds are out in force and what a treat after a long winter.

Everything is happening in garden world. The scilla and puschkinia are in full bloom in large patches. Both are showing themselves at the Vineyard Haven branch of the Martha’s Vineyard Savings Bank.

The star magnolia at the Olsons in North Tisbury is, once again, spectacular. Several weeks ago I trimmed a few errant branches from my own. I brought some indoors and they actually bloomed. What a pleasant surprise. I had never tried to force them before.

I have tried both lilacs and dogwoods. The lilacs never amounted to much but the dogwood was satisfying. It bloomed a lime green rather than the white flower which shows itself outside.

In the fall I transplanted some spinach seedlings into the hoop house where they promptly froze solid under many feet of snow all winter. They are absolutely fabulous now with huge leaves and plenty of them. However, the ones started inside in January, lovingly separated and moved into a protected location, have already gone to seed with only three or four tiny leaves. There you have it! Spinach seems to thrive in the bitter cold under a simple piece of six millimeter plastic. It is fall planting for me in the future.

I have an absolute green sheen on one of the vegetable beds. After close scrutiny, smelling, and tasting I found it to be thousands of baby dill plants. I have had it reseed reliably in the past, but it does seem very early and certainly chilly for it.

I’ve said it many times — gardening is nothing more than a keen observation. Love of the subject helps.

Violet and I took a road trip this past week. It’s always amazing to note how much earlier the season is in the Boston area. I miss my mother! She always phoned to brag on her lilacs being a full week or two ahead of mine. Rew, Pennsylvania is in the heart of the snow belt, but enjoys an early spring.

On the Woods Hole Road, there is a shocking amount of daffodils lining the wall of the Stephen Miller House. I, on the other hand, have planted by the bushel on my property and have a few spindly patches. What gives?

I’m starting to take it personally. If it is mice, why do I bother feeding barn cats if they cannot perform a simple task in exchange for kibble?

Back to Rew for a moment. I saw Windy Taylor recently. She grew up in the area. We talked about the spring tradition to pick the wild leeks. I believe they are known as Appalachian ramps. We only called them leeks. She told of going to her family camp, catching Brook Trout and cooking with just picked wild leeks.

I remember the boys in my elementary school would eat a large amount of them and get sent home from school because they smelled strongly of them. They would promptly go fishing or get into trouble.

Those leeks were nothing like the ones I grow now. I wish I paid more attention to the old folks at home back in the day!

How about the 19 presidential hopefuls on the Republican side, meeting last week in New Hampshire? I wish they had some sort of sensible platform. I would welcome a well thought-out difference of opinion. They only seem to be against anything President Obama has tried to do. They are rapidly changing their tactics so that Hillary will be the target. Guys! Get a grip!