Thank you, Maggie.  The diatomaceaus earth sounds like the long term solution.  I’ve been using the slug killing granules for years.  They may be keeping the slugs somewhat at bay, but by this time of year the army is in full command of my garden.

I’m not sure what to do with my climbing roses at this point.  There is a high fence covered with brown spotted yellow leaves and the roses have turned to pod (not sure if that is the right word).  Would you suggest cutting the the branches down?  And if so, to how high?  Also, in the past I’ve pruned the skinny branches, but now most of the branches are twig width.  The climbing roses look glorious in June and most of July but by mid-August they really look sad and sickly.  The early bloom is fine.  The second bloom is glorious.  But then for the rest of the summer the climbing roses are a mess.

Thank you for your good advice. By the way, here in Newport, RI the climate is so mild that I actually have non-climbing roses in bloom at Thanksgiving.  So you see it is a long growing season here on the island. 

Does anyone have a way to get rid of snails?  I could start an escargot restaurant with all the snails multiplying in my garden.  I’ve been using the recommended products from our local nursery, but the snail population is thriving.  They particularly like my clemetis.  As they climb from leaf to leaf they leave dead leaves behind. 

My other problem is a rust on the leaves of my climbing roses.  Once again, I have been using a product from the local nursery for several years that doesn’t work.  My climbing roses will be covered with buds, then the leaves will become speckled with dark spots and a dust of red rust powders the underbelly of the leaf.  The leaves then turn from green to yellow, to brown and fall off.  Any suggestions?  I’ve tried hand picking off the leaves as they become spotted, but it spreads so quickly that I can’t keep up with it.

The Woodstock experience was phenomenal.  People everywhere—on the treks in and out and while we were there—were kindhearted, warmhearted, and big-hearted.  

My parents founded the Newport Jazz Festival (the first outdoor music festival) and the Newport Folk Festival, so going to Woodstock was a natural for me.  It was in my blood to be there.  No way, would I have missed being there at Woodstock.

The music was amazing, truly awesome.  I can remember waking Sunday morning to Jimmy Hendrix and finding myself surrounded by Hell’s Angles giving out breakfast bars and bottled water.  When you’re young and connected to the music, weather doesn’t matter.  It was the camaraderie and the magnetic music that drew us there and then pulled us altogether.

I highly recommend three books by Maile Meloy with coming of age themes.  I couldn’t put them down until I finished them.  All three are quite a treat.  

They are great summer reads whether you’re lying on the beach or awake in the wee hours of the morning.  Her first novel, "Saints and Liars," and two collections of short stories, "Both Ways Is The Only Way I want It" and "Half In Love," are beautifully and brilliantly crafted.  

In my opinion, Maile Meloy is in that special category with Joy Williams.

The best way to get more women in corporate America is to support them in ways that will allow them to continue in their roles as good wife and mother.  My eldest daughter says that she and her women friends feel that they can’t do it all.  Her friends complain that husbands sulk when they’re asked to pitch in and do "women’s work."  That they don’t understand that when she’s worked until eleven the night before and was in the office at 6:30 the next morning, she doesn’t want to go out for dinner and a movie when she gets home.  She wants to stay home, order in, and get cozy.

Young women in corporate America feel that they have to work harder than men because they are being scrutinized more closely.  The old boy network is still just about the boys. 

There is still a double standard.  The wife is still expected to take care of the house and arrange the social life, even while working a twelve hour day.  These young women need support from their parents, their husband’s parents, and from their bosses, because husband’s still don’t get it.  Until husbands take over more of the household responsibilities along with other roles, such as that of social secretary, women will continue to burn out and in the end opt out to stay home and not go back to work after giving birth.

I am not saying that these young women should not be judged by the same standards as young men, I am merely saying that they need to be cut some slack so that they don’t feel that they are being judged more harshly than the men their age doing the same job. 

Politics, family news, sources for everything from fresh produce to eye cream and vitamins, good doctors and bad doctors, and what we’re reading.  Everyone is always either asking me to tell them the most outrageous faux pas or telling me a whopper.  

More specifically, the island news has to do with new, ugly architecture, too much rain (when the broccoli turns brown on top and the clay courts are swimming pools for birds), bad local politicians we love, beach and harbor pollution, gauche ticket prices for balls during the economic downturn, gauche parties in general, gauche people who flaunt their wealth.  Trunk shows here in Newport take the place of English teas and we’re inundated with them and how to politely get out of going to them because you can’t tell a friend that you’re not interested in buying this year because if you do, you’re criticizing the fact that they are still hosting trunk shows!  

The fact that at least people are dressing down and at their summer picnic they are serving quohogs instead of oysters at their raw bar, is a healthy sign.  Then there is the fact that RI unemployment is over 12% and that the rate of homelessness on the island has doubled in the past year.  There is a lot to talk about with friends… 

When I was twenty-seven I made the decision not to have children until I turned thirty.  In retrospect, it was the right choice for me at that time, even though I was surprisingly asked at the age of thirty-seven if I was my daughter’s grandmother.  

Having grownup at a time when the huge stigma that was associated with divorce rendered my mother dysfunctional, I didn’t want to end up like her raising two children on my own in New York City.  It was hard on all of us.