On Tuesday morning an unnerving eerie calm was in the air. I guess that expression “The calm before the storm” is etched in my mind. I write this on Tuesday evening so am unable to comment on the impact of Hurricane Jose.

My son Reuben says not to worry. DJT will not allow anyone to sneak in from the south named Jose.

I am a weather fanatic. The forecasts always put me in a tizzy. I don’t know why — they are usually wrong and way out of proportion.

Reuben and his friend Jake picked all the grapes. The heady aroma of them was all over the yard the past several days. After picking, cleaning, simmering, straining and canning, I figure a quart of juice is worth around $40. No one ever said gardening saves money. What a huge project. I managed to dirty every possible container but I must say, there may not be anything that tastes better. It’s been a great year in the garden. The spring rains and fairly steady moisture throughout the summer really enhanced the fruit harvest. Lucky us. My second planting of cucumbers is blooming like crazy. I do not however have much hope for another good picking. My friend Sharlee and I decided the days are simply not long enough to produce ample cukes or zucchini. We will keep you posted and hope we are wrong.

The plain, old-fashioned hostas are really lovely this year. They bloom late and reliably. I found one about 30 years ago upside down at the old Tisbury landfill. It was dried up and barely recognizable. I dragged it home, divided it, and have dozens of beautiful offspring to this day. Go figure. Once again, nature is grand.

I think there were very few nights growing up that we did not eat potatoes. Usually they were plain boiled. Mom used to cook them with their “jackets” and skip the skins. I forgot about that until recently. I harvested a great deal of small spuds, not much bigger than ping-pong balls. The skins were less than perfect so needed peeling. Instead, I gave them a quick rinse and partially boiled them. Sure enough, the skins slipped right off. Thanks, Mom!

I have (all modesty aside) a perfect sugar maple tree. It was six-inches tall when I planted it. I was pregnant with my now 40-year-old son. It’s now at least 50 feet tall. It is just beginning to turn a fiery orange and has a perfect shape. Maples love water and it finally had enough this summer.

Also, as I mentioned in last week’s column, I had it sprayed in the spring for the pesky winter moth and/or Gypsy caterpillar. I hope I do it again next season.

My Dad had a large number of sugar maples on the property. He tapped them yearly and boiled down enough syrup for friends and family. It takes 50 gallons of sap to get a gallon of syrup. He boiled it in a 50-gallon drum outside. He tapped a few telephone poles on the edge of the property to amuse and confuse passersby.

Mark your calendars, this Saturday, Sept. 23, is the Living Local Harvest Festival at the Agricultural Hall, from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. The community supper begins at 6 p.m. with a contra dance rounding out the evening.

Twitter Trump and Teleprompter Trump finally merged as one at the United Nations. It was reported that an audible gasp was heard when he threatened to destroy North Korea. Bush 43’s Axis of Evil seems tame now. I can’t believe I actually miss him. I disagreed with almost everything he did, but he was a decent, reasonable man who was raised properly.