I could never live in the tropics. Last Monday and Tuesday brought us the remnants of Tropical Storm Bill. I just hate the humidity and “ill wind.” Once the thunderstorm started on Tuesday evening, I was happier. Rain always pleases me in any form. The earth can use a drink. It’s odd that everyone else seems to get rain like crazy and we are lucky to have a tiny sip. Even drought-prone Texas got more than its share recently.

I always enjoy sharing my garden injuries with you all. Naturally, there are the blisters and calluses. Don’t forget the pulled and strained muscles. Cuts, scratches, bruises, bites, sunburns and poison ivy rashes happen to us all.

Over the weekend I had a bumblebee in my pants that managed to sting me five times before I found it. It crawled away unconcerned. They are usually so docile—chubby and lazy really. It was an unpleasant surprise as you can imagine.

June is the month for roses. I have a few all time favorites. Topping the list is Zephirine Drouhin. It is thornless, fragrant and a climber—simply the best.

To call a rose a climber is actually a misnomer. In the rose world they are referred to as Long Cane Roses. They cannot “climb” but need to be helped up onto supports or fences.

Where was I? Oh yes. Favorite roses.

The Don Juan is another long cane, extremely fragrant and a beautiful dark red.

Possibly the most beautiful pale pink long cane is the Dr. W. Van Fleet. It is the parent of the popular, much-used New Dawn, but the blossoms are larger and more “rose-like.” It has a great smell, unlike New Dawn which I confess to find rather boring. Some specimens are well over 100 years old. Someone ripped one out of a bed on one of my customer’s properties. I tried to revive it from the compost pile with no success. Hopefully the person did not know any better. I know it was at least 50 years old and planted by Craig Kingsbury, who was their gardener at the time. Such a pity.

Often, there will be a vigorous rose of a muddy red color which you cannot remember planting. You could swear it was pink or orange last year. You’re not crazy. Your pink rose died over the winter and the rootstock onto which it had been grafted is growing and producing those red flowers. There is one of those specimens in front of the store at the bottom of Spring street as you enter Main street in Vineyard Haven. For years that rose was a beautiful apricot. The name escapes me. It may have been an Abraham Darby. It is no more.

I picked the first of the kohlrabi. This is one of our favorite early crucifers. They come along quickly from greenhouse starts. We enjoy them now. They are a mild radish in flavor. As they mature they can be grated into a slaw or sautéed as a side. They are well worth the effort. It’s not too late to seed a few.

Indulge me, please, as I wax on about the Confederate flag. It seems to be a big topic in the news this week. I left Rew, Pa. in the mid-1960s to attend college in Northeast Texas (don’t ask!). It was really the Deep South, just a quick drive to Louisiana. I was a remarkably naïve young woman. I found it rather amusing to see all the flags and hear comments about the War of Northern Aggression. I did not know they meant it.

I was pretty impressed to be placed in a fully-integrated dorm until I found out that all of the white students were Yankees. The Confederate flag was placed at the state capitol of South Carolina in the early 1960s as a direct opposition to forced desegregation, so all the nonsense about honoring the Confederate war heroes is just that.

It should really be a symbol of treason. Funny how many of those folks keep questioning the patriotism of our President.