What a relief! The humidity has finally lifted and the nights have cooled enough for comfortable sleep. The only thing we need is some rain. Oh well, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

Now that Violet has gone away to school I am making things she hates for supper. One evening I had a big plate of nothing but onions and eggplant. Another night I sauteed some green beans in coconut oil and a bit of balsamic vinegar, added some walnuts and finished it with some wonderful Grey Barn blue cheese. This will not last long — I miss her terribly.

While off-Island last week I had to pump my own gas. How I detest doing that. For starters, I usually get it all over my off-Island clothing. I remember why I always tip the gas station attendant here. I’m no wimp and grew up in oil country, but I hate gasoline.

I feed my outdoor cats on the upstairs deck. There are no stairs but nonetheless I have three enormous raccoons up there every evening. I loathe them. I’ve lost count of how many chickens they have killed in the last 40-something years. I mention no stairs so you can picture the claw marks going up the side of my house. Creepy!

Forgive me, I’m all over the place this week. It’s late for summer work in the garden and yet still too early to start fall cutbacks. I would start moving perennials around if there was any rain in predicted in the near future. It still seems too hot for disturbing any roots.

There is a wonderful pale pink crepe myrtle on the right hand side of Cooke street just at the turn onto South Water street in Edgartown. It is a little past its prime but hey, who isn’t?

One positive thing I can say about the lack of rain this summer is that I have not received one single mosquito bite. I think that is a definite first. I remember growing up in Rew, Pa. being covered in scabs. They never sprayed nor do I remember using repellent. Often, we children would build fires outdoors in the evenings. We would toss damp grass clippings onto the flames to create what we called “punky smudges.” We would jump through the dense smoke to deter the bugs from our skin. Then we would resume our nightly games off hide and seek or kick the can.

I’ve been noticing certain alliums which have held their own for most of the summer. One, called Millenium, has been a superstar. It has bloomed for several months, and the spent stalks are still attractive. Note to self, purchase more for next year or collect some seed heads to grow my own.

My mother’s go-to advice for every ailment, physical or mental, was: “Get up and do something, you’ll feel better.” I took that advice to heart. I probably have spent five sick days in bed my entire life. I don’t say that to brag or be smug, but only as a statement of fact.

For this reason the pneumonia situation with Hillary Clinton makes perfect sense to me. I see her showing up to work as not unusual. Now, thanks to the media, it is a huge story. Never mind that Donald Trump put out a joke of a note from a doctor saying his health was “astonishingly excellent.” Now this week he is going “transparent” by going on the daytime show, Dr. Oz, and answering only those questions with which he feels comfortable.

Rachel Maddow had a segment on Monday evening about other presidents passing out or falling down, including George W. Bush’s famous pretzel incident. In every example the press made a few jokes and moved on. No on ever moves on with Hillary. She is held to an entirely different standard.