We’ve been having some serious rain of late. I’ve got big puddles in the driveway and vegetable garden. What surprises me is the still-low level in Whiting’s Pond. When my children were small, it was the go-to place for ice skating.

My friend Linda asked me recently about compost making. I took her on a trip down my memory lane. I moved into my present home in the early 1970s. There was an old sand pit filled with stones, broken beer bottles and other unattractive items. It was, however, in full sun and looked promising as a garden.

Armed with nothing but an old pick-up truck and plenty of hopeful, youthful energy, I began trucking in free horse manure, seaweed and bagged leaves from the sides of the roads. Once a week I would turn the piles over until they disappeared and formed some sort of garden soil.

That first year I was rewarded with a couple of measly collanders worth of sad vegetables. One thing I like about myself is the ability to stick to a task. Eventually all that hard work paid off and I developed some impressive biceps. Age changes a person. Now I have a dump truck and some willing children and grandchildren.

Because I’ve kept a flock of chickens for almost 50 years, I never put food scraps anywhere but in their pen. They have those handy pitchfork feet that turn over anything they don’t eat. Every so often I can scrape up some rich compost as needed.

People use those compst tumblers but I find them somewhat inefficient if manure and grass clippings do not supplement food trimmings. Eggshells, coffee grounds and citrus peels need some other vegetative help to break down quickly.

Back to chickens, briely. I have been raising my own meat birds for more than 45 years. It’s a difficult subject for some folks, especially vegetarians, so they can skip down a few paragraphs. I order about 25 Cornish game hens in September. That’s only chicken every other week for a year. Most people who eat it have it that often.

I am almost done with the dispatching thereof. After 10 weeks they are about six pounds, which can last our family for several meals plus soup. I feel good about their short lives. They are fed organic grain and live in sunshine with grass. I am grateful for them. It’s a skill to know how to feed a family. When the children were growing, they clapped when I put one on the table.

I’ve said many times that gardening is all about recognition. I noticed a tiny forsythia re-seeded in the vegetable garden a few years ago. For some reason, it is in full and glorious bloom this week. Nature is a mystery and grand.

There are still some nice beets in the ground. I had some that were roasted with Mermaid Farm feta cheese. Can it get any better?

I have a major peeve (pardon the ironic pun). People who pick up their dog doo into plastic bags and then toss it willy-nilly into other people’s garden beds are not good citizens. South Water street in Edgartown is the worst.

Since we are on the subject of pet peeves, I have another one. Why do we have to start Christmas insanity at Halloween?

I am one of the baffled ones concerning the supply chain problem. Of course it will be Joe Biden’s fault that nobody gets Christmas presents this year.

I wonder who of us actually needs more stuff. I told my children that all I want for Christmas is for them to come to the house and take something away.

Thanksgiving is becoming a much bigger event than in years past. Who doesn’t love sharing a nice meal with loved ones? But honestly, people, we all need to simplify. I’m speaking for myself so don’t get all offended!

Now let’s all get busy figuring out how to use leftovers!