The Life of an Unpickled Cucumber

I called it. An hour after I wrote my post yesterday, I found myself running around like a maniac with a milk carton box on my head again. The only difference was that this time, as I was pulling my half-ton eggplant bucket into safety of our garage, I was profusely swearing. Enough is enough, how many hail storms can one deal with. So once again it was the chameleon cage, netting stretching too much under all hail stones collected on it and saving the already half-dead eggplants.

Anyways, today with the magically slow African internet, I have decided to write about the topic of topics – the cucumber. One might ask how I came up with the title of this blog. A very simple answer – Mr Cucumber and I were talking about how awesome it would be if I started studying horticulture (well, it was mostly me talking). He asked me what would I do as a horticulturist, what would be my goal. The first thing that popped into my mind was ‘Pink cucumbers! I’d create pink cucumbers!’. Back then I still thought pink makes everything better (as I mentioned earlier, it clearly does not). So that’s the story, a few minutes later the blog was alive (‘It’s alive!’ I screamed).

I haven’t been fair, calling him Mr Cucumber, since he is Dr Pink Cucumber in real life, hence from now on I will call him by his rightful title. And just to make the situation clear, he’s not called that just because of the title of this blog. This story started when I planted a few cucumbers, they came out and the seedlings lived happily in our garden. A few of them were demolished by ants, which lead to me waging war with them – home made anti ant spray and ground coffee piles all around my cucumbers. It worked, they never came back, but neither did my cucumbers. We were left with three plants, two of them managed to grow into big crawling-around-the-netting monsters. Soon enough we had our first blossom and shortly after that we got our first cucumber. Dr Cucumber has sworn he will pickle it. There was no point in trying to show him the rational side of this issue – that there is no point in pickling one single cucumber. As it grew and as I started talking about how lovely our salad would be one day, he protectively proclaimed that I may eat my half of the cucumber and he will still pickle his.

Last night we were grilling fish, yellow tail. Yum. Somehow I forgot to write cucumbers on our shopping list, and you can’t really have a tomato cucumber salad without cucumbers. I probably caught Dr Cucumber at a weak moment and he agreed to eating it that night. Therefore the cucumber saga is over. Not really – our cucumbers keep growing and so does the pickling craving of Dr Pink Cucumber.The cucumber saga                                                                Life of an unpickled cucumber


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