I worked in the restaurant business for probably 30 years, starting in high school. Often we worked in similar conditions to this past weekend. There was not air conditioning in those days and the kitchens could get up to 120 degrees. I recall that we often would say “If I were in hell I’d be on vacation.”

I think, growing up, the only AC was at the movie theatre. I wonder if we were more tolerant or is it really getting warmer? In any event, the weekend was downright unpleasant. The plants did not seem to mind, especially the heat-lovers like tomatoes, peppers, eggplants and squashes.

I did not plant any winter squashes last year. I hoped to thwart the heinous squash bug. This year I discovered them on the zucchinis. They make a tiny triangle of golden eggs on a leaf and then, in a nanosecond, hatch into the gray, hideous, ravenous adults. They look like something out of Star Wars. I cried “uncle” and sprayed with Captain Jack’s Dead Bug. Supposedly it is relatively safe for humans.

Now is the time to have at the spirea with hedge clippers. They will bloom again once the spent first blooms are removed. Also, keep up with the endless task of dead-heading buddleia. Otherwise they look ghastly and will reseed everywhere, including in patio cracks.

Speaking of endless tasks, the dead leaves of daylilies need to be removed weekly. Take my advice — I’m not using it!

Sometime in the early seventies I drove around and picked up bags of leaves left on the roadsides. I filled in an area in the upper driveway. One time the bags contained maple leaves and seedpods. They sprouted and now there are 40-foot trees in the spot. I could not have placed them better than nature.

For an evening soirée, a quick fix for gardener’s fingernails is a paste of hydrogen peroxide and baking soda. Scrub it on with a nail brush and you’ll be presentable in public.

Violet played her fiddle in the West Tisbury Congregational Church’s Blueberry Festival last Saturday. We came home with a delicious homemade pie. It was so hot over the weekend, we polished off the whole thing. We applied the theory put forth by my friend Sharlee’s late mother, Charlotte Creech: “Eat it now, so it won’t be there to tempt you later.”

Roses, the June bloomers, held their own until this week. There was an impressive Cape Cod Rambler on the right fork to Katama, opposite the entry to Meeting House Way. It has threaded itself way up into several cedars in a most pleasing fashion.

My last two columns mentioned two people who I think are worse than Trump. I’ve been thinking all week about the dozens more who could fill that role. For starters, most of the Republican members of Congress. These cowards stand silently as DJT tweets incessantly, lies when the truth would serve him better, postures with war in the Middle East and endangers the lives of four freshman congresswomen. There are crazy people out there with guns just waiting to be incited.

People keep saying that there is no one above the law. Clearly that is false. Nothing touches Trump. Joe Biden gave someone a neck rub and made her uncomfortable. We had to hear about it for days on end. Trump is credibly accused of rape and it’s a mere blip on cable news for five minutes.

Every night when I get into my comfortable bed I think about the poor men, women and children who are suffering on our border in what can only be called purposeful cruelty by the United States of America. Shame on us.