I’ve been searching for a lead and came across a segment in the book Wobegon Boy by Garrison Keillor. For those of you familiar with Lake Wobegon you must recall the local church — Our Lady of Perpetual Responsibility. He says the alter flowers are nothing but weeds. The sermon that follows is something along the lines of “God loves what man rejects.”

I was happy to contemplate on that all week. My weeds are completely out of control. I am learning to love and not reject them. Because I use a lot of hay mulch there are several kinds of grasses sprouting all over. Some are thigh-high for Pete’s sake. Their seed heads are lovely waving in the breeze. If I soften my gaze, the garden looks like a Monet painting. There are poppies all over the paths, bachelor buttons from last season’s seeds, and airy wisps of cilantro flowers.

The cilantro is amazing. It stayed green the entire winter and then burst into flower. I only grow it for that purpose as I detest the stuff. It tastes like soap to me.

Another interesting reseed is the allium albopilosum. I planted several bulbs some years ago and now they dominate my perennial beds. They look great for a couple of months and even the spent flower heads hold up and give structure way into July.

My friend Randy Rynd dropped off a six-pack of interesting eggplant seedlings. A Spanish heirloom called Listada de Gandia, it was introduced into southern France around 1850. It is a white fruit with purple stripes. I am looking forward to seeing them mature. I believe Baker Creek Seed Company has seeds. Randy picked up the starts at our own Morning Glory Farm.

On Sunday, I attended Violet’s piano recital at the West Tisbury Congregational Church. In full and glorious bloom right outside the window was a large tulip tree (Liriodendron Tulipifera). It is worth a trip down Music street to check it out.

Since I am hopelessly behind in my own vegetable garden I weeded a small section of onions and cozied some basil and peppers right between the plants. I saved the exertion of prepping another area. Time will tell if there will be room for all.

A few weeks ago I complained about the tiny inchworms that destroyed all my apple blossoms. I neglected to take action and now they are larger and have moved on to the sugar maple and the roses. I wish I had someone besides myself to blame.

Honestly, if it can happen, it will.

I have a stand of pink peonies — five or six large plants. Blooming among then are several orange oriental poppies. It is not a pleasing combination. The poppies do not like to be moved. They’re old and set in their ways. I probably will not move the peonies, so every year for a few weeks I will criticize them and myself. Oh well. Errare humanum est!

My small flock of chickens is elderly. In the past week both a hen and my rooster died. I was not entirely unhappy to see the rooster go. I do appreciate hearing him at the crack of dawn (good for me, I have no close neighbors), and I like fertile eggs, however he was a bit aggressive. Never take your eyes off one. The minute you turn your back he will come after you. Mine recently hit me with his chest. I took a bamboo rake and rolled him around the yard a bit but I still didn’t trust him. Years ago I killed one that went after my little girl. She was proud of me. We had him for supper. Don’t mess with me.

I couldn’t be happier with the results of the Tuesday primaries. I’ve always been a fan of Hillary. I find it hard to understand that the hatred of her is so profound that the Donald is a viable option. Paul Ryan, our Speaker of the House of Representatives, is an honorable man with whom I totally disagree on policy. He called Trump a racist (rightly so) and yet will support him over Hillary.

Even Lindsey Graham said this week: “Love of country has to trump hatred of Hillary.”