I’m not one to complain about the chilly, cloudy weather. It gives me less anxiety about all the tasks at hand. Spring is fully upon us. I believe this time period is referred to as “High Spring.”

I love the subtle shades of reds, greens and yellows on the baby leaves. Soon everything will be all green all the time.

Once again, I believe we are nearly a full month ahead of the old days. I clearly remember back in the seventies, lilacs came into full bloom around Memorial Day. The Tisbury School children had their annual parade from the school to Owen Park to toss flowers off the dock to remember the dead. Most of the children were clutching newly blooming bouquets of purple and white lilacs.

This is totally subjective but I do think the white ones are more fragrant than the purples.

The cherry tree in front of the Causeway Apartments is worth a trip down Skiff avenue. It is breathtaking. Also, the Nip ‘n’ Tuck Farm fields are awash in buttercups. Nothing like a rainy spring to bring out the best nature has to offer.

My asparagus has finally appeared. None of it, however, has made it into the house. I eat it as fast as I pick. I have a wonderful life.

Umpteen years ago, my son, Jeremiah, gave me a fragrant snowball viburnum. It was a couple of feet tall. Now it is at least 15 feet and unbelievably beautiful. The smell hits a person as soon as they drive into the yard. This is the carlcephalum cultivar and you will never regret a purchase of one. I have it cozied between a large crabapple and white rhody. In the background is my relatively young yellow magnolia. It’s a pleasure to come home.

A year ago I planted a small row of mache (AKA corn salad). It’s a cool-weather loving green. It is tender and mild in a salad. I probably had two or three meals and promptly forgot about it. It has now reseeded everywhere and is covered with adorable pale blue flowers about the size of the mayflower blossom. If I leave it to its own I’ll probably pick some salad in the fall from the grandchildren.

In my over a decade with this column, I must have mentioned at least 20 times that gardening is nothing more than recognition and determination. It helps to be blessed with a love of the subject.

Every now and then NPR runs a tiny segment with old music entitled lunch. People simply describe their bagged lunch on the job site. Before I describe my own lunch today, I must digress. My mother packed my Dad’s dinner pail for at least 50 years. In Appalachia we never had a lunch box, only a pail. I think she usually made a bologna sandwich on white bread and a thermos of black coffee. Couldn’t have been all bad; he lived nearly to 90.

I bought myself a small crock pot to take to work. Annoyingly, it did not have a removable insert so cannot be washed properly. Who thinks up a stupid product like that? At any rate, I am using it anyway. Today, I wrapped some frozen homemade bread with butter in aluminum foil and plugged it in at the outdoor outlet on a customer’s porch. It was warm and wonderful at lunch along with a hunk of Mermaid Farm Tiasquam cheese and a half jar of olives.

I ate overlooking Edgartown Harbor imagining I was in Italy.

There is never a dull moment in Trump world. As I write this on Tuesday evening the breaking news is the firing of FBI director James Comey. I’d like to say good riddance due to his ill-timed and unnecessary comments concerning the Hillary Clinton emails. Let’s get real, though. Jeff Sessions urged Trump to get rid of him after his testimony concerning possible collusion with Russia.

One thing I’m willing to admit about DJT. He might be, by far, the most transparent public official in quite some time. I wonder what comes next. Will the party in power in Congress have the political courage of the Republicans after the firing of Archibald Cox by Richard Nixon?

Speaking of political coverage, how about Barack Obama’s acceptance speech at the Profile in Courage awards ceremony? I miss him.