Thursday, August 1, 2013

Give us this day our daily cucumber

Day one of August. We had breakfast on the screened porch and my feet were freezing—turning blue. This is August, Dear Ones. What will happen to the dog days of summer? Last year the temperature in July was in the hundreds, this year we ended the month in the fifties and sixties. Where's my sweater, socks, jeans, afghan? 

When we were at the farm in Wisconsin a few weeks ago, the humidity was so high it plumped up all the wrinkles in my face. I sweated and whined. Now it's so cold the wrinkles are back. I shiver and whine.

In spite of climate weirdness, the tomatoes and cucumbers seem happy. In fact, the cukes are enjoying an out of control orgy. Bees are buzzing. Vines are tangling. Those busy bees are impregnating little yellow flowers, consummating their relationships—baby cucumbers are bursting out all over the place. Adult cukes are pressed lovingly against each other in our vegetable crisper. Some cucumbers are being handed over the fence to the neighbors. 

"So, John, what would you like for dinner? Cucumbers, you say?
Perfect. A cucumber a day keeps the doctor away."

My friend Pat Burke is inundated with cucumbers too. She's making pickles. That sounds like work to me.

I always thought this mass abundance of a vegetable was zucchini's job. We have a plant, but it's choosing to defy the laws of zucchini-dom. The only zucchini we've eaten came from the farmers market.

So, knowing that I like to throw in a little politics, did you wonder if—in this blog about cucumbers and zucchini—I'd mention Anthony Weiner (alias Carlos Danger)?  Naa, that would just gross us all out.

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