Autumn closes in on my garden

"A garden is a grand teacher. It teaches patience and careful watchfulness; it teaches industry and thrift; above all it teaches entire trust."
Gertrude Jekyll 

AUBURN — You can't eat flowers, and that explains why I don't focus on planting roses or tulips.

But I went ahead and planted sun flowers, anyway.

This season, which got off to a rough start with 20 days of rain in June,  I tried growing sun flowers by seed. Two poked through the soil and survived to grow 10 feet.

The twin Russian giants tower over my garden as cars slow down and their occupants give me a thumbs up when they see sun flowers, putting smile on this proud Green Thumb's face.

Still, I concentrate on vegetable gardening simply because I enjoy consuming organic rabbit food, which is not tainted by deadly pesticides and fertilizers. I must confess that I use one pesticide, Garden 8, sparingly to ward off aphids and cucumber beetles. 

I enjoy toiling in the soil and watching thing grow.

I have rigged myself for silent running — just like a submarine does when it goes deep or is creeping up on an enemy. I shut off the damn TV, dream of taking a hammer to my annoying phone and pull the plug on your computer for 48 hours. I have discovered that there are plenty of hours in the day to get my hands dirty.

I save money, lose weight, and enjoy the fruits of my labor. I have built my own Shangri-la and enjoy getting down and dirty with nature and all its mystery.

Trust me on this.

Sure, I have been frustrated by the weather, bugs and other varmints that treat my garden like a buffet. But I am always surprised at the taste of my home-grown tomatoes and remain the envy of my good neighbors who are often on the receiving end of a bag of vegetables.

But the cool winds of September remind me that another garden is on its last leg and another summer is fading away.

Last year, an Auburn police cruiser was riding by the yard. He stopped and complimented me on my garden.

"Officer, you know your need is two fresh, prize-winning summer squash," I said.

"Are you kidding," the officer said.

I walked over and handed him the squash. I told him to dice them up, add olive oil, butter, bread crumbs and bundle the squash up in aluminum foil and throw the vegetables on the grill.

"No kidding," the officer said. "Thanks."

"Hey, it is always good to grease the police," I said.

We both laughed. I discovered that gardening is also a great way to build community relations with local law enforcement, too.

Beached on the Fourth of July

"When you finally go back to your old home, you find it wasn't the old home you missed but your childhood."

 Sam Ewing 

REVERE, Mass. — A wave of humanity shuffled past us as we sat on a stonewall facing Revere Beach on a humid July 4 night.

This was the place to spend an evening viewing fireworks from across the channel without the hassle of finding a parking space or dealing with a mob of rude people. Swampscot, Lynn, and Nahant were putting on blockbuster displays that could clearly be seen from Revere Beach. 

When we looked to our right of the beach, the town of Winthrop was also lighting up the skies just a few miles away, and yes, you could see Boston's incredible display, too. We watched it all from the comfort of a stonewall as gentle waves lapped the shoreline. There were also local, grand displays of explosives going off across Revere neighborhoods.

No Hatch Memorial Shell on the Charles River for three Mainers who avoid crowd scenes. The Boston Pops and its interpretation of the 1812 Overture by Russian composer Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky can transform a reluctant Patriot into a flag-waving citizen, but camping out two days to secure a front-row seat is not worth our efforts.

There were thousands of people wandering up and down Revere Beach boulevard as fireworks flashed all around us. Music blared from cars as traffic inched along the strip that is lined with several dives. State police patrolled the dark beach with their four-wheelers to keep the peace.

We were on a mission to seek out cool ocean sea breezes in the stifling city heat. There was a warm southerly breeze off the sandy shore, offering little relief to a sweltering public tempted to immerse themselves in the cool waters of the Atlantic.

A lot has been said and written about America's first public beach, and not all of it has been kind, but I still love the place, its fast food and the people who come from over the Boston area to spend a humid summer day.

The smells and crowds are notorious for triggering memories of the boulevard, which is one the best areas to jog or walk. And then there are beautiful woman who inspire any male runner or walker to go the distance. RHS teens staked their ownership of a stretch of wall that began in front of the MDC police station and ran all to the way Bianchi's Pizza. Kelly's Roast Beef was about a mile a way, but it was always worth the long walk to shell out a week's pay for a clam plate.

I was grateful to my family from Maine for sharing a wonderful July 4 and listening to my countless memories of beach that means so much to people who grew up in this city. We quietly watched the colorful flashes of fireworks up and down the surrounding shoreline on a typical humid night in Revere. There were hundreds of families doing the same.

Revere Beach has undergone so many restorations and transformations over a century. It endured the Blizzard of 1978, and even though the Cony Island of the East has passed into history, it is a part of me that I can't shake. Of course, I miss all those friends and family who once walked along its shoreline.

That's why I can't stay away from the place, especially on the Fourth of July.