This week’s heat and oppressive humidity brought me back to my previous life working in a restaurant. We used to say, “If this is hell, we would be on vacation.”

I cannot even say it’s good for the plants. Both phlox and monarda get a white unattractive mold and/or fungus in their leaves. This is a result of dry soil and wet air. Supposedly a solution of baking soda wiped on the leaves will help — as if one has the time or inclination to even care at this point.

In late winter, I tossed some pathetic marble-sized wizened potatoes from last year’s crop into a large pot. I upended it this week and there were several meals worth of perfect spuds. Why, I wonder, do I even bother to search catalogs and purchase starts in spring? Nature seems perfectly capable of providing if given half a chance.

Speaking of the remarkable power of Mother Nature, I listened to a segment on NPR this week. It seems that painted lady butterflies make the trip from Africa to South America. Will wonders ever cease? Think about their tiny wings.

Years ago, I worked for a woman who only liked big-headed flowers. I said, “Like zinnias.” She remarked that they only belong in California. I wisely commented, “I did not know that.” Small flowers were “too precious” for her. I may be the exact opposite. I love airy, tiny blossoms. For example, gaura is an all-time favorite of mine.

The white whirling butterfly cultivar reliably comes back each year. Some varieties are annuals, so careful reading of the label is necessary.

There is a beautiful, blooming mimosa tree at the mailboxes at the entrance to Snake Hollow. It’s right past the Tashmoo Overlook on the left heading Up-Island.

I know what to do but rarely do it. My kale and cabbages have fallen prey to some pest — a worm of some kind.

Ghost Island Farm solved the problem. They have beautiful cole crops. They have the good sense to cover them in the field with insect-proof mesh.

As some of you know, I handwrite this column. The editor is kind enough to pick it up weekly at my house and enter it into the computer. Probably due to my hard-to-decipher writing or some sort of auto-correct, I need to clarify a couple of things. As I was complaining about faucet placement for outdoor watering, I said they are often too low for a watering can. It printed “too far.”

Then I wanted to remark about phygelis and its ability to over-winter. It said, “over water,” which, I admit, tickled me.

One time, ages ago, I admonished folks to resist the temptation to prune a forsythia into a globe, but it printed “glove” which made me imagine all sorts of topiary experiments.

In the 1960s, I still had a positive take on the federal government. That is, until 1967-68, when the demonstrations against the Vietnam War were getting in swing.

Because Earl Warren was Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, the Court was still trusted. Now it’s difficult to have any respect for the nine appointed-for-life justices. The three Trump appointees blatantly lied in their confirmation hearings. With Thomas and Alito, it’s difficult to have hope for our world.

The ruling on Presidential immunity clearly is for Trump. Joe Biden lives under a different code of ethics than the former guy. Oh wait, I forgot — he’s old.