By LYNNE IRONS

If I could rename my perennial bed a meadow, I would feel smug in the knowledge that I was a raging success as a gardener. There must be something about this karma thing; how could a person get so far behind in one lifetime? I have learned to live with many of my weeds. In the early summer I had a huge amount of daisy fleabane which has reseeded everywhere. This aster relative (Erigeron annuus) received its common name from a belief that the dried flower heads of the plant could rid a dwelling of fleas. As if!

The Sept. 15 sun went down in one blazing ball and after the last bit of color was gone, the crowds gathered on Lambert’s Cove Beach brushed the sand from their bottoms and turned around to go home. And then a brilliant harvest moon rose to rival the sunset.

By LYNNE IRONS

If I were a tomato, I would want to be a porch tomato. It is a lesson which took only 15 months, about $50 and a bowl of bruschetta on a warm summer evening to learn.

By LYNNE IRONS

Let me get a couple of business items out of the way. I hate it when I tell a lame joke and no one gets it but me. To wit: last week I meant to call my old donkey an asinine along the lines of equine, bovine, porcine, feline and canine but my editor quoted me as saying he was an ass. Even she thinks I am hopeless.

Tomorrow, students at the Edgartown School will have a choice at lunchtime: chicken salad sandwich or peanut butter and jelly. And on Thursday, they will have another choice: tossed green salad or a salad of mozzarella cheese and tomato.

Chicken or peanut butter, tossed or tomato salad, may not seem like a weighty decision, but for Edgartown students the choice will also be an opportunity to choose locally-grown, fresh food over a meal made from imported ingredients.