My three least favorite words that precede a sentence are “As one ages...” I need to use them now however. As one ages, life does seem to speed up. I am having a difficult time adjusting to full-on summer after the Fourth of July already. I have failed on several occasions to allow for major traffic delays. I have yet to accept the heat and humidity. Hate it! Now after the rain of biblical proportions last week, the mosquitoes have come out in force.

When we were coming up in Rew, Pa., we never used insect repellent nor did the town spray DDT, which happened other places, so I’m told. Every evening before our nightly games of kick-the-can and hide and seek, we would build a “punky smudge.” I believe people call them “no-see-ems” here, but we had punkies. A good-sized bonfire would get roaring and we would throw damp grass clippings on the flames. We ran through the thick black smoke so our clothes and skin would repel the bugs.

Some places here on the Vineyard are particularly unpleasant in the evenings and early morning. Mosquitoes breed in the salt marshes, so often the low-lying areas are prone. My friend, Sharlee, lives on Chappy. She says Chappaquiddick is Indian language for Land of Many Big, Biting, Bugs.

Last week I mentioned finding sprouted potatoes in the pantry. On closer examination, I discerned each one had clusters of tiny new potatoes growing. They were about the size of lentils. I was too tired to find a spot for them in my super weedy garden, so I put them into fish totes with semi-rotted wood chips. We will see if anything comes of it. Usually I lay my seed potatoes on the ground, cover with hay and call it a day. This method worked really well for years until the voles discovered my garden plot. They take a few bites out of every spud . . . little jerks. The barn cat does his best but simply cannot keep up. Hopefully, they will not get into the fish tote. My entire garden life is a series of experiments and mistakes.

There is so much wild morning glory entwined in my snow peas that I actually picked by feel. The Braille method, if you will!

The Anthony Waterer spirea is in full bloom everywhere. It is especially nice next to the big white heads of the Annabelle hydrangea. As the flowers fade, give it a shear. It will re-bloom in a few weeks.

I heard on NPR that people in Ukraine spend 60 per cent of their income on food while we lucky Americans spend a mere six per cent. Why then does everyone complain endlessly about the price of food?

For a few years I have been growing spigarello. It is a broccoli-type green. I have been using it as a kale substitute in cooked dishes. It is remarkably pest-free which is a welcome relief for quick meal preparation this time of year.

I never thought I’d say this. Of all the Republican presidential aspirants, a Bush is the most sensible. The Supreme Court’s recent decision to legalize gay marriage has put most of them over the edge. There have been tons of referencesto what they think the Bible says. Now, I’m no biblical scholar but I do recall quite a bit of questionable behavior in the “Good Book.” There is polygamy, incest, the selling of family members into slavery and blood sacrifice.

At one point, a bunch of Sadducees questioned Jesus about marriage. They asked, if a man dies and leaves a wife, according to the law of Moses she marries his brothers. That man also dies and again she marries his brother and so on seven times. At the resurrection whose wife is she?

Jesus answers — you err and do not know the scriptures. There is no marriage in heaven.

Now, I have no idea what to make of that but I do know I’m supposed to mind my own beeswax, live and let live and carry on. I’m willing to bet both Mike Huckabee and Rick Santorum eat bacon!