cucumber plants are assholes.

And if I didn't like the look of the little bastards, I'd just cut them all down.

I was going to write a cutesy post about how my garden is blossoming this summer, in contrast to the desolation that was last year's attempt, but then I waited about 10 days while my cucumber plants marched their cruel way through the four corners of my raised box garden.

{THIS WAS TEN DAYS AGO.}

I thought everything was going swimmingly at the time. Philip had installed a hand-made trellis of sorts a few days before in order to keep them from growing into the zucchini plants behind them. I attempted to train the cucumber vines onto the trellis, which seemed to be working, and then they just got too much of a good thing from there on. 

It wouldn't be so bad if they didn't grappling-hook themselves onto the other plants in my garden as a means to grow further out. Their little tentacles got into my oregano, chard, and cilantro (which I let flower, but it was such a small bunch that it didn't matter anyway). Once they reached out to something to grasp, they curled themselves around said item about 10 times.

I don't blame them, though, if they are in any sense aware of my failed attempts at gardening the past two years. I'm impressed that my garden has survived until now. This time last year, I was staring at a couple of bleak and bone-dry containers. I'd given up at that point. And while they have yet to actually produce one measly cucumber, I'm stunned by their beauty and get my hopes up with each yellow flower that appears. Maybe later this summer, I'll be up to my eyeballs in cucumbers, but for now I can only marvel at their will to survive (and conquer!).

Lesson learned: next year grow cucumber plants in a raised bed all to themselves. They're greedy little fuckers.

Jes