On Sunday in the late morning, Violet and I took a drive along State Beach. There was some serious debris on the road from ocean invasion. The wetlands were more wet than land.

Later that day the sideways snowfall felt like being inside a snow globe.

It’s been a while since we’ve had a wintry day.

As I write on Tuesday, the forecast is for rain, wind and 50-degree temperatures.

Last weekend, before the aforementioned weather events, it was cold and I was irritated that I had neglected to drain my hoses in the vegetable garden. I hate when I have no one to blame but myself.

They were too frozen to drain so I had to stretch them out, in hopes that the sun can warm them enough. Honestly, this is a real “take my advice, I’m not using it” situation.

Last week I mentioned varmints in my greenhouse. Sadly, I think they are rats.

I started some pea shoots and know that they will eat every one after digging through the potting soil. I had a bright idea. Wonder if it will work?

In a recent clean up of the medicine cabinet I found an expired bottle of some sort of liniment. I have no memory of its purchase. It smelled terrible.

I slathered it all over the outsides of the pea shoot flats, careful not to get any on the soil.

It will take a very determined rat to cross over into the soil. One can only hope.

I’m a big fan of leftovers. Good thing that Violet is a good sport in the food department.

I have no problem having last night’s dinner for breakfast nor a couple of nights running. We often joke that we doctor them up so we think it’s something different.

Because I had a bumper crop of large, wonderful onions this year, caramelized onions tend to fix up any dish.

The local farm stands still have plenty of lettuce, spinach, collards and kale. I took a trip to Ghost Island and North Tabor farms to replenish my greens. I still have some in the garden but I confess I just plain did not want to pick this week. I’m still feeling like I’m on some sort of Christmas vacation. Lucky me that my job situation is three-seasonal.

I wonder if Trump’s supporters actually ever listen to him. I, for one, have never gotten past his mocking of a disabled reporter before the 2016 election — and people still voted for him. Even worse, he recently joked about a man taking a hammer to the head of 82-year old Paul Pelosi and the crowd laughed. Who raised these people?

The latest is his comparison of himself to Abraham Lincoln and how he would have negotiated with the slaveholders and avoided the Civil War.

Aside from being downright laughable, his remarkable ego is astonishing.

As chance would have it, I’m a few hundred pages into the Jon Meacham book And There Was Light: Abraham Lincoln and the American Struggle. I’ll think about giving a book report when I finish.

In the meantime, Mr. Trump, you are no Abraham Lincoln.