Krishana Collins is sculpting bouquets in her flower studio. She wears knee-high, green rain boots and moves quickly down a row of three wooden tables standing end to end. Her face is set in a serious expression but she smiles easily, scrunching her nose and shaking her brown curls. She holds up a black knight scabiosa and looks down at the dark burgundy petals.

It has been very dry in the garden world this past week. Granted, the days have been absolutely gorgeous and the nights cool and wonderful for sleeping. I’ve been busy hauling hoses and fixing sprinklers. The cheap plastic sprinklers last longer and work better than the expensive metal variety.

Muriel the pig was pregnant and a month overdue, and as the first day of the Martha’s Vineyard Agricultural Fair approached, Fred Fisher Jr. had to make a decision whether to bring the three-year-old sow or not.

“I took a big gamble doing it,” Mr. Fisher said on Monday. “I could have lost them all up there, but it turned out pretty well.”

It’s Sunday evening with a light drizzle. The fair is over, the president has left, and the upcoming school schedule has arrived. Hard to believe that summer for us here on the Vineyard is basically over regardless of the calendar. Both sadness and relief!

It’s Sunday morning in what promises to be a beautiful day. The sun is shining and, thankfully, there is low humidity. The Obamas have arrived 
. . . welcome back. I’m fascinated by all the hoopla about the inconvenience of travel. I’m happy to live in a place that attracts presidents. Riding along Middle or North Road for a week? People . . . please. Is this a problem?

Nothing so gentle as real strength, nothing so strong as true gentleness.

“That’s what we say about draft horses,” Bruce Marshard said, standing next to one of his Percheron horses, Sonny. His pasture mate and fellow Percheron Max was grazing nearby.