Last weekend, a tropical storm roared up the East Coast. A few days earlier, we saw cyclones roaring through Hong Kong and (gulp) a terrible flood in Libya, a desert nation.

A week ago, here in Maine, thanks to the Almighty, we just caught the tail end of Hurricane Lee as it swirled through the Gulf of Maine and headed towards the Canadian Maritimes.

On this peninsula some call “God’s Pocket,” we lost a few shingles. Some trees fell over, pulling the electrical wires off the poles. Many, like me, survived without power for a couple of days.

I know, I could have purchased a generator and probably should have, but hindsight is always 20/20. That is another story for another time.

Just for the record, CMP crews borrowed from New Brunswick restored the power. They drove down to help us out while the winds of Mr. Lee hammered their home front.

Thanks to them and for the efforts of CMP to get the lights back on. Town public works crews and fire departments cleared roads. Thanks to all. And luckily we have not had any reports of injuries or worse.

Hours after the wind and rain left us, Mother Nature gifted us a magnificent sunset that looked like the entire western sky was ablaze.

And, almost on cue, the temperature plunged.

Yellow school busses took to the streets, and town traffic and parking problems vanished. Heavy equipment contractors began digging up the roadside on Ocean Point Road (Route 96) to lay a 12-inch water main. Soon, the DOT will begin rehabbing the Southport Bridge over Townsend Gut.

Cool mornings pulled the switch, and the leaves started to turn. Welcome back, Mr. Fall. We missed you. Some say it is the best of all seasons.

It is also time for end-of-season chores. Fans that cooled us are wrapped up and stored in the cellar. Diehard fans of short pants and sandals are thinking about (not doing, just thinking about) breaking out long pants and socks.

It is time to take down the garden, which, at my house, didn’t produce the usual yield of tomatoes and peppers.

Once, years ago, my bride planted a few bright green twigs in our hillside garden. I think they were a gift from one of her gardening pals. They were set neatly just behind a row of green and yellow hostas. The good news is that they produce blue/purple flowers.

Each year, the long green shoots seemed to spread and get a bit longer  and, this summer, fed by lots of rain and sunshine, they exploded, taking over a section measuring somewhere near a dozen feet square. Her prized yellow and green hostas disappeared under their foliage. They call it false indigo.

I looked it up, and various agriculture websites say it is a native plant. While they said it is not invasive, it sure acts like it. Hundreds of years ago, some Europeans stopped in America, liked it, dug it up, and took it back home. Now, it is considered invasive in places like Romania and Hungary. The plant grows green leafy shoots, about waist high, that sprout strings of brown seed pods that burst, sending tiny seeds trickling down the hill where they hide under leaves until spring. Then they strike, sending down roots which beget more leafy shoots that beget additional strings of brown seed pods that, well, you know the rest.

Is there any way to control it? I went back to the internet agriculture websites. They seemed to agree. Control of false indigo (Amorpha fruticosa) is best achieved by “applying continuous moderate or intensive cattle grazing,” said one, adding the plant is considered unpalatable for most invertebrates. That means that Bambi and pals turn up their noses at it.

Now, I do not own a cow, and neither do my neighbors. And some pesticides, like Round-Up (and its cousin Agent Orange), are discouraged. So, last weekend, I got out my handy clippers, dropped to my knees, and attacked the long shoots one at a time. It took most of the morning and some of the afternoon to cut the stems, stuff them in a big trash can, and drive to the dump (er, transfer station). I repeated that process over and over again.

After that chore, I cleaned up most of the mess, put the tools away, sat down with an adult beverage, and clicked on the tube.

Then I watched the TV presenters explain how the Justice Department – the same Justice Department that is allegedly weaponized against Republicans – had indicted a senior Democratic senator and his wife for pocketing bribes that included $500,000 cash stuffed in his jacket, a Mercedes convertible, and solid gold bars.

With that happy news, I grabbed my gloves, and went back into the garden.