Fall is definitely my favorite season. The light is simply fantastic. The only exception is driving east in the morning or west in the afternoon. The sun is now so low in the sky that driving can be tricky at those times.

I have a forsythia in full bloom. It is not only odd seasonally, but all the leaves are still on the bush with a flower near each and every leaf. I wonder if the glancing blow from Hurricane Jose interrupted its clock somehow. I remember after Bob in the early nineties, lilacs, azaleas and forsythia all bloomed in October.

Another odd thing happened in the garden this week. Last year I took apart some window boxes on the raised beds of the vegetable area. I discovered dozens of tiny begonias last week. They must have reseeded from those spent flowers last fall. I’ve never been able to grow them from seed and here they did it themselves. As I often say, nature is grand.

Speaking of begonias, there are quite a few blooming happily in the full sun at the Triangle in Edgartown. That bed always looks nice. Good thing since much time is spent in the queue heading into town.

Now is the time to be on the lookout for reseeds in the vegetables. I found collards, kale, endive, lettuce and leeks this week. Hopefully, I will move several into the hoophouse to enjoy with winter meals.

Reuben and his friend Jake manned the cider press again this week. We processed a few crates of pears. They were small with coarse skins but turned into awesome cider.

My workers have been whining about mosquitoes this past week. I have yet to receive a bite this year. It could be my complete covering of clothing or my skin is simply too old and tough for them to bother.

On the Woods Hole Road there is a large praying mantis yard sculpture. Violet and I often comment on it. This year I’ve had quite a few in the garden. They eat their weight many times over in aphids. I do, however, find it unsettling when they turn their head to look at me.

I’m particularly fond of the Virginia creeper. It has come into its own — a brilliant red up in trees and along fences. I have one along the top of the garden fence that is easily 40 feet long.

This early summer, Bryan Cimeno — both father and son — organized and planted at the Vineyard Haven Post Office. They were volunteering in order to honor family member Derek Cimeno. The ground around the post office has been quite shabby for a number of years. Mostly Cumby’s trash and cigarette butts were the decor.

The Cimenos worked hard and it was really shaping up. The mulch of seashells was a nice touch. Then for some reason the powers that be put the brakes on the project. It was nearly 75 per cent finished. I guess the federal government considered it a “gift” that they deemed illegal.

My mother was the postmaser at the Rew, Penn. post office for many years. She took over the job after the retirement of Nonnie, my maternal grandmother. We owned the building. My Dad kept the place up. The tiny lawn was mowed and the flag raised and lowered every day. It never stayed up at night.

The Vineyard Haven Post Office (in one of the state’s richest towns) has a broken door for the umpteenth time. It’s been weeks with a trash bin blocking the exit. My Dad would have fixed the door the day it broke.

Here we are, nine months into the Trump presidency with no legislative success. Nary a bill past. Way to go MAGA!