I Come to the Garden Alone, While the Dew is Still on the Roses

Okay, so I was not alone and I don’t have any rose blossoms left.  But Lesley and I were out in my garden, which I swear I was in very recently and noticed nothing of interest, when we looked into the cucumber plants and found…

Actual cucumbers!

That grew in my garden!  And then sat there in the dirt like happy green sausages.

So we picked the three that we could find and cut two of them up and fed them to everyone and after everyone left, I ate what was left and I thought…

Okay, I’m embarrassed to tell you what I thought.  But I’m going to anyway.

I thought, “Wow, these are just like cucumbers you would buy at the store.”

21 thoughts on “I Come to the Garden Alone, While the Dew is Still on the Roses

  1. in as much as the whole idea of growing your own food is so you can acclaim to one and all about how much better and heathier and most wonderfl tasting stuff grown at home is, in light of this revelation please rename your blog to Home Gardener Fail. kthnxbai

  2. And TEELLLLL YOU YOU ARE HIS OOOOOOOOOOOOOOWN…

    (I had a very scary landlady once upon a time who used to liquor up and go to town on the piano with this hymn…)

  3. Ah yes… the day I went to the nursery and ask to buy some tomato plant seedlings with visions of growing my own plants and making homemade salsa… and they asked me what kind I wanted. I said, of course, “You know, like the big red ones at the grocery store.”

  4. I suspect that, if Protestants drank together regularly, many bar evenings would end with drunken old ladies clinging to each other around the piano singing that song.

  5. I suspect that, if Protestants drank together regularly, many bar evenings would end with drunken old ladies clinging to each other around the piano singing that song.

    THEY DO.

    Oh, wait. You were talking about other than at my house.

    Just wait til we get into “Nothing But the Blood.” It’s like a religious “Row Row Row Your Boat.”

  6. P.S. — This post title also gives me an immediate visual of an elderly lady, sitting on her porch, fingerpicking and singing. And it makes me want to go to Nebraska.

    Heh. Enjoy every cucumber, missy. You may want to put up some pickles, later.

  7. I’ve told y’all of my dad’s rag-time piano version of “There is a Fountain Filled with Blood,” right?

    I think you need to get him to record that for “True Blood,” from what I’ve learned of it from your posts.

    Perfection.

  8. Actually, they were a lot better than grocery store cucumbers. Wait til you taste that first red tomato. You’re gonna die and go to heaven.

    And y’all look for Aunt B’s pumpkin stand this fall. She’s going to have a bumper crop.

  9. One reason I like to grow heirloom vegetables is that everything tastes different. Different from what’s in the stores, different even from other varieties of what I’m growing.

  10. Is today when we should start talking about cucumber infused liqueurs? Much, much more useful than pickles.

  11. THEY DO.
    Oh, wait. You were talking about other than at my house.
    Just wait til we get into “Nothing But the Blood.” It’s like a religious “Row Row Row Your Boat.”

    Have you been coming to my family reunions? The folks on my dad’s side are big singers–blame their Welshness–and big on Christianity–blame their Welshness.

    Singalongs are a pasttime, and those two songs with their swooping intensity always make an appearance. The sad thing is we do it without any booze.

  12. Is cucumber a vining plant? I went on vacation with these little plants that were either cucumber or zuchinni and when I got back a week later they were taking over my garden.

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