I’m one of those more-is-better people. I cannot seem to have enough geraniums to rescue before winter sets in. I spent several of last week’s rainy days taking apart ornamental pots and window boxes. I admit I saved every single geranium, begonia, and mandevilla. I crammed five or six into fairly small pots, fussed over them and set them into the greenhouse. Hopefully they can spend a month or so getting used to more moderate temperatures before moving into the house or back rooms. I do love their cheerful blooms mid-winter. Also, they do not seem bothered by whitefly or aphids, which sometimes hitchhike into the house from their summer outdoors.

I did discover some perennials in the pots that will be moved into some seasonal beds. I use sedum, crocosmia and ever-gold grasses and all will live on for another year. A few years ago I discovered that the large-leafed or variegated vincas used in pots are also perennial. I cut them back to about six inches and transported them into some empty spots on the border. They have a big beautiful blue flower in the spring and attractive foliage all season. Sometimes I pot them up into large containers and store them in the unheated hoop house. They can be potted each into window boxes in the spring for quite a saving. Each four-inch pot in the nursery is four or six bucks.

A few days last week I started some small fires in the wood cook stove. Mostly I used newspapers and trash but it was pleasant during the damp evenings. I’m a big fan of seasonal change and wool socks.

There is some downright impressive goldenrod in front of the YMCA, along with the purple New England asters, they scream fall. Poor goldenrod — it gets undeserved attention. Ragweed is to blame for the seasonal allergies; when it is pulled in the garden a cloud of yellow dust immediately sets off a sneezing fit.

Goldenrod minds its own business, just looking beautiful, covered in honeybees. The really dark honey gathered in the fall is the result of those bee visits. I’ve said many times nature is so forgiving. Almost a month ago I lost all hope for a bed of pumila astilbes. They were completely crispy, having received hardly a sip of water all summer. I cut them to the ground and walked away. After last week’s rain every one has tiny new growth at ground level so they should be around next year. Most of the dried-up sad flowers are sprouting new green. Hope springs eternal.

I’ve been following Hurricane Matthew’s journey through Haiti. I don’t know what else is in store since I wrote this on Tuesday. I saw a picture of Haiti and the Dominican Republic from Google Earth on the Weather Channel. The DR is vibrant and green while Haiti is treeless and brown. They, being the poorest country in our hemisphere, have clear cut forests to make and sell charcoal. Now with the four feet or so of rain expected from Matthew there is fear of life-threatening mudslides. Not to mention the possibility of a cholera outbreak.

It is truly heartbreaking to think how much we, as Americans, have compared to the third world. Makes the constant focus on Donald Trump pretty darn petty.