I have no one to blame but myself. I spent Monday’s holiday making sense of my own yard. Weeks ago I noticed a couple of tents in my apple trees. I promptly forgot about them. Now I have hideous caterpillars making their way to the trunks of Maples and other fruit trees. I spent some time hosing them to the ground and stepping on them. Gross. Then I discovered all the hosta flowers and several daylilies had been visited by deer.

Honestly, it is a constant battle with the forces of nature. Deer even bit off all the geranium flowers. That is a first. They smell so bad. Why would a creature eat them? Also, why would they wrap their little deer lips around a rose stem. Ow.

On a lighter note, I whiled away some time watching sparrows dart in and out of the sprinkler. They are maniacs. I always wonder if they are going to run into me during their rapid and erratic flight.

I have started eating zucchini. I take them very small, cut them lengthwise, and sauté for a nano second with some baby onions. Contrary to most, I never seem to have enough of them.

Recently, I stopped for a muffin at the Scottish Bakehouse. The entire yard and porch were covered with perfect blossoms from the horse chestnut tree. I felt like I had come upon a wedding.

We had an enormous one in our backyard in Rew, Penn. For some reason the black bears were fond of it. They often were resting up in its very large branches. We were careful.

I was telling a friend the other day about our town dump. People threw all their trash off the side of the mountain at the end of one of the side roads. The bears were always there scouring for food. As smart-aleck teens we would try to scare them. Luckily, our parents never caught us.

Thanks go out to Sam Green. She heard that my rooster died and brought over an adorable bantam/silkie cross. He started his life at the charter school kindergarten, so he is pretty tame. He is a much later riser than my previous one. He does not start crowing until after 6 a.m. I have had some that will crow all night on a full moon. I don’t mind. Good thing.

I finally ate some beets. I wonder why they are so expensive as they are pretty simple to grow. I do not bother thinning them, but eat them from small to large. They are great cold with some oil and vinegar. They are a love them or loathe them food. A few family members have called them purple dirt. Great! All the more for me.

I was surprised to see the Goldsturm rudbeckia blooming at the down-Island Cronig’s. Mine has yet to bud. She is the classic Black-eyed Susan. It spreads and will produce an impressive stand in just a few years.

It was a melancholy weekend. I listened to the final Prairie Home Companion from the Hollywood Bowl. Garrison Keillor has been my Saturday evening entertainment for decades. Both Car Talk and Companion are gone now from NPR. It’s the end of an era.

President Obama called into the show. He tried to compliment Garrison but the humble man turned it around. He offered up lots of thanks to the President for his “dignity, wit and humor.” The last monologue started with the familiar, “It’s been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon, my hometown,” and ran for 15 minutes. He left us in the Chatterbox Cafe remembering the townspeople who had died.

Keillor, like me, cam from the ‘American’ heartland and developed a liberal political attitude, unlike the ‘home’ folks. Guess that explains my fondness for him and the long-running show.

Patience, people, we are into high summer. Drive carefully. Walkers, please walk on the left facing traffic. We value your lives.