The last few chilly days is just early spring hanging in there before the hot, humid summer is upon us. On Tuesday, I spent some time regretting I had put the long underwear away.

For those of us on the Vineyard, Memorial Day is officially the beginning of the busy summer season. I did not get the date right while planning my work week. I expected another week of May. Oops! The May 31 is on a Sunday this year, so the last Monday of the month for the holiday crept up on me.

Guess I’ll need to fall on my sword in front of a few garden customers. Otherwise, everything is full on spring. One of my personal favorite, the bridal wreath spirea, is in full and glorious bloom. For some reason, the plant has fallen out of fashion in modern landscapes. It gives an old-fashioned appearance and I must say brings me back to my childhood in Rew, Pa. more than any other. My great-grandmother Mary Henretta, was known as mum to us. She was a well-known gardener around town, I like to think I received that gene from her.

She had several bridal wreaths on her property, perfectly trimmed to reveal their true nature. They are meant to resemble a fountain. I’ve noticed a few here and there, pruned into hedges. I can imagine mum turning in her grave at the very thought.

How about the wisteria on the pergola at Morrice the Florist? It’s been there for ages. Check out the trunk sometime. There is one across from down-Island Cronig’s. It was planted on a sign post but has escaped and is now bound for glory up into a neighboring tree.

I’m hopelessly behind in the vegetable garden. I still have seeds and transplants languishing in packages and seed trays.

Then, the icing on the cake of my week arrived at the post office — 100 sweet potato starts. They are bare rooted, wrapped in moss and paper and look like they belong in the compost pile. They are wizened, yellowed and wilted. Not to worry, however, they have arrived like this in the past. Right now they are soaking in jars of water trying to perk up! I grew enough last year to last all winter and we eat them often. What with climate change, they now thrive here instead of just down south.

While shopping for the perennial bed, if you come across an amber moon astilbe, grab a couple. It is a beautiful plant — reliable, deer resistant and brightly colored enough to lighten a shady garden.

I’m so sad about the cancer diagnosis of Joe Biden. What a long life of public service and more familial hardships than most have to face. What is especially sad is certain folks inability to muster any human compassion or empathy. It’s hard to understand how some people can be so mean, but it does seem to be effortless for them.

I know Joe Biden would have nothing but support for anyone else having this challenge.