By LYNNE IRONS

I was saddened this past week by the death of my Uncle Dan Boyle. I mentioned him in my Memorial Day column as having been wounded on Mt. Suribachi at Iwo Jima for which he received the Purple Heart. He was a quiet man — patient and amused by life. I recall his driving a motor boat on the East Branch Dam of the Kinzua River. He hauled us children around water skiing hours on end. Thanks, Dan!

By LYNNE IRONS

While sitting once again in traffic, I was developing a bad attitude. I began seeing weeds, dead flower heads, planters needing water, and general neglect all over town. I was thinking, in a darkly humored moment, of pointing out some of those places in next week’s column.

By LYNNE IRONS

While sitting in bridge traffic waiting for yet another enormous sailboat to pass through, I was working on a pretty significant resentment against Mr. and Mrs. Gotrocks. Here I was, late for work, hot and feeling sorry for myself, and the boat people were holding me up on their way to a lovely day on the water.

By LYNNE IRONS

What’s up with the salmonella on tomatoes? I have several thoughts on the subject. Bear with me as they are somewhat disjointed. First of all, big farmers are plowing up their fields as the market is so bad and they are trying to get another crop of something else into the ground while there is still time.

By LYNNE IRONS

Nothing makes me more relaxed than a rainy Saturday in July. Last weekend, in my opinion, was perfect for us gardeners. There is a country-western song out of the West Texas cotton fields with the following refrain:

Sow your seed

In the ground below

Fall to your knees

and pray real slow

For the rain to come

And kiss the seed

To bless you with

All that you need.