After a long, hot, humid and seemingly endless summer, fall temperatures and light are a welcome relief. I love the crisp air and defined colors of our natural world.

My friend, Sharlee, remarked a few years ago, “Remember when old people used to flock to the Vineyard after Labor Day? Now they are all our age!” Love her! We still get a kick out of that!

Marie and I went to the community greenhouse plant sale last spring. We bought a flat of very inexpensive miniature baby hostas in plug trays. As we were high-fiving each other on our great deal, we realized they were spider plants. We laughed all the way home and still get tickled to think of it.

I’m not a big fan of house plants. I tend to neglect them and am frankly bored by them. So, I put the aforementioned spider plants in some shady window boxes and could not be more pleased. They have threaded their way up into the begonias, torenias and vinca in a most pleasing fashion. I may cut those babies, root them and use them again next year. Live and learn! Last week I mentioned my sugar maple beginning to turn. In the week almost all of it is sporting its fall color. I got it 40 years ago at the Felix Neck Seedling Sale. It was six inches tall. It is now at least 20 feet taller than the peak of my two-story house. Yikes, I really am old!

I planted a single package of Provider green beans the beginning of August. They took about six weeks to produce. I was able to get an 18-pint canner load of plain beans, seven pints of dilly beans, give a lot away and eat them every night for several weeks. I finally pulled the plants on Monday, gleaning yet a few more meals.

I laid the spent plants right on top of the bed, tossed a can full of lime on them and covered with some hay. I no longer wish to drag garden debris to the compost and haul it back onto the bed in the spring. I’m hoping it will take care of itself this winter. Bean plants, being legumes, should put nitrogen back into the soil. I hope I’m not making that up!

Several years ago, one of my customer’s houses burned down. Before the bulldozer arrived, we salvaged many of the shrubs and perennials. I hauled them into an area in my garden henceforth named the fire sale. This past week I foraged around in the chest-high weeds and found tons of phlox, monarda, sedum, mountain mint and bluestone pavers. I have begun moving it into my perennial beds and hope it’s a task I will complete in my lifetime. What’s wrong with me?

Speaking of wrong, I have another customer on South Water street in Edgartown. We have started the fall clean-up. In one of the beds closest to the sidewalk, we found three (count ‘em) three bags of dog poo. People, please. Cleaning up after your pet does not mean delegating the task to someone else’s gardener. Ew!

Thank goodness I have learned to love most of my weeds. The fleabane in early summer was a fine backdrop for irises, daylilies and foxgloves. Then in late summer the goldenrod next to sunflowers, rudbeckia and echinacea really made a statement.

Now I have a stand of tiny, pale blue asters setting off the sedums.

I did not plant any of them and am happy to have them.

I am so disgusted with our present political situation that it is affecting my well-being. Poor Brett Kavanaugh. Someone picked on him, ruined his life and all he got was a lousy seat on the Supreme Court.

At any rate, I’ve given up watching the news of late. There are some reruns of Murder, She Wrote with Angela Lansbury on the Hallmark Channel. Way more enjoyable.