This Abundant Life
by Emily Conrad
Another cucumber stretches downward from where it first budded near the top of the lattice fence, gravity elongating what the seed packet promised would be a “whopper” into something that looks like those seedless cukes that come wrapped in plastic at the grocery store.
I saw it days ago but forgot to check on it. It’s now over a foot long.
I catch another cucumber turning into a pumpkin. This one, too, was growing downward, but after about eight inches, it touched bottom. Supported, its bulk pooled against the mulch like a water balloon, stretching away from the faucet as it fills.
It’s barely August, and already my vegetable garden of seven plants—only one of which is bearing fruit so far—is producing more than I can eat.
Read more »
Another cucumber stretches downward from where it first budded near the top of the lattice fence, gravity elongating what the seed packet promised would be a “whopper” into something that looks like those seedless cukes that come wrapped in plastic at the grocery store.
I saw it days ago but forgot to check on it. It’s now over a foot long.
I catch another cucumber turning into a pumpkin. This one, too, was growing downward, but after about eight inches, it touched bottom. Supported, its bulk pooled against the mulch like a water balloon, stretching away from the faucet as it fills.
It’s barely August, and already my vegetable garden of seven plants—only one of which is bearing fruit so far—is producing more than I can eat.
Read more »
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