I've had a hen jealously guarding her eggs. When I try to take them she pecks my hand and becomes downright aggressive. For several weeks I have left her alone. Last Sunday morning one tiny baby hatched. It was tucked in under her wing when I opened the coop. This has happened in the past when I have a flock of mixed breeds which are known to go.

There are four words a person over a certain age does not want to hear, especially from a medical professional: "as a person ages." I heard a friend relate an experience at the doctor. She was concerned about her hearing and was having it checked. After the dreaded four words, she was told that not only does the hearing begin to fail but also the ability for the brain to rapidly process verbal input. A smarty-pants, she asked him to repeat that, but failed to get even a grin.

Mouths of babes! My grand daughter, Violet, went on a school field trip to the Polly Hill Arboretum. She was impressed with the lecture on nectar guides. How I have been gardening for over forty years and did not know this is beyond me.

I am the queen of superlatives. I am fond of always, never, best, and worst. Isn't the copper beech in North Tisbury the most beautiful tree ever? I swear it gets more spectacular every year. I attempted to figure out the exact cultivar in Michael Dirr's Manual of Woody Landscape Plants but I lost my patience going through his list of possibles.

I live in the past. I have a memory of a freeze toward the end of May, probably decades ago. Therefore I always hesitate to put any annuals out much before Memorial Day. I see geraniums, impatiens, and even tomatoes for sale at the various nurseries and always think, “They’ll be sorry.” It turns out I always wish I had put my own out since it never seems to be like it used to be. How’s that for an elderly woman’s sentence. Honestly, I should try to keep up.

How do weeds and bugs survive in chilly, dry, wind when the poor plants we love get completely beat up? It’s a mystery to me. No matter how well I care for a plant it never is as hardy as the weed next to it. This is in spite of hoeing, pulling, and/or cutting the unwanted growth. I must admit I came very close to losing any good humor this week because of the need for endless watering in the annoying, at best, wind. This is no simple twist of a faucet. We’re talking turning on a noisy generator and running it continuously for fuel.