It’s been difficult these past few days knowing how to dress. It seems most of the day is spent putting on and/or taking off layers of clothing. I’m a big fan of long underwear — the woolen variety. I am rarely if ever cold even when working outdoors all day long. There is no bad weather — only inappropriate clothing.

Last week I mentioned the Larsen daffodils at Beetlebung corner. Danny thinks his mother Mary planted them in the 1950s. He remembers his dad digging the holes.

Speaking of daffodils, my favorite is the double daffy. It is old and not to be found in any catalogue. I’ve looked.

Several years ago Tina Fisher gave me a clump which is growing each year. I love them. I noticed some in the Whiting farm front lawn recently. They are lovely with their splotches of lime green on the double petals.

Over the winter I had quite a few kale plants die in the open ground. Lucky for me I neglected to pull them up. They have all come back and are providing plenty of green material for meals. Most are the red Russian variety. The Tuscan, aka dinosaur variety really did die. One would think it would be more hardy given its super fleshy-sturdy leaves.

Most of you know that the burning bush we all love in the fall has been placed on the invasive species list. Known as winged Euonymus, the little wings blow everywhere in the fall and now baby bushes are everywhere. It is a good time to weed them out. Just saying. Also rose of Sharon throw thousands of babies.

On the Woods Hole Road just past the red light there is a yard with dozens of Skimmia. They are covered with their red berries. At a glance, they can be mistaken for hollies. I prefer them. For starters they can tolerate full shade and their leaves are not sharp. Once, while weeding under a holly I got what I thought was a sharp leaf stuck on my finger. To my horror, it was a mouse biting and hanging on for dear life.

I confess . . . I turned into such a girl. Could not stop screaming. It took several shakes to remove him. He promptly landed on my co-worker’s head. Honestly, you can’t make this stuff up.

I laughed out loud on Saturday driving past Ghost Island Farm. Someone dressed as a chicken was waving at all the passersby.

How I wish this were not true but it’s the Vineyard reality: I’ve picked several ticks already. So far, only the dog type but it’s only a matter of time. Word to the wise.

I employ the scotch tape method of dispatching them — a simple fold-over and into the trash they go.

The tax deadline has just passed. I’m one of the baffled, wondering what Donald Trump is hiding. The absurdity of him wanting to reform the tax code when we don’t know if those reforms would benefit him can be added to the list of absurds. I love how he claims only the media wants to know. Seems like last weekend’s protest disproved that theory.

Oh! And how about Mike Pence going to the DMZ and announcing that “strategic patience” is over. Personally, I need a lot more strategic patience in my life.

Too bad Mr. Trump cannot seek the advice of former presidents, however, he has alienated both ’43 and ’44. I don’t think the Bushes have forgiven him for his treatment of Jeb. I imagine accusing Obama of wire tapping might be a deal breaker.

We might be in serious trouble. Have mercy.