I’m desperate for rain. I don’t mean a tiny sprinkling or a passing thunderstorm with a five-minute downpour. I need two or three days of a steady soaking. When I was a child, I remember many summer days of rain. We either played happily outside getting thoroughly drenched or spent hours of board game fun on the front porch.

Everyone in the gardening and landscaping business has been commenting on how weird the season has been. We’ve been talking about the mild winter and super-warm spring. Both seem to be factors in how quickly the summer plants have moved along. I saw some New England fall asters blooming at the entry to the YMCA, for heaven’s sake.

My dogs are sissies! Last week we had those few incredibly hot and humid days. Need I say that those of us who work outside were pretty sour by day’s end. Knowing I would be miserable by evening, I put on the air conditioner in the morning. The two dogs — one a four-year-old rescue and the other extremely elderly — enjoyed the cool house all day long.

It’s hard to decide. Am I a very resourceful citizen or simply a reality-show hoarder? I am loath to toss anything that could have a future use.

I do my best planning in the middle of the night, since I tend to wake up way too early. I read or schedule my day ahead in my mind. The problem is when I try to get out of bed, the body betrays me. We’re talking stiff and sore here. Wouldn’t I be something if I could accomplish even half of my goals? This is what they mean by youth is wasted on the young. Oh well, there is no choice but to soldier on!

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.