It's not like I was carrying an AK-47

The wind is whipping out there.  The sky is looking ominous.  We've had thunder most of the day.

So, any time it would actually like to do something productive, like, I don't know, rain, would be great!  I mean, seriously, I went out there to check and see if I had any cucumbers ready to harvest and saw this haze in the air all around me.  Normally, I would've thought it was humidity, but it was different, mostly because it was brown.  I honestly think it's dust and dirt kicked up by the wind because we are so very, very dry right now what with not having had rain in three weeks.

Also, it would be nice to not have to stand in the blistering heat to water my garden.  (I have got to get a sprinkler.)

Now, admittedly, as I walked outside, instead of immediately going to the side yard, I stopped at the end of the carport because the strange brown haze had grabbed my attention.  I stood there pondering it for a moment, and then saw a lady carrying her small dog and walking with an intent purpose down the street, probably to get indoors before the heavens opened up.  That's when I became aware of the dagger in my hand.

As much as that sounds like the opening to a murder mystery or my life as a serial killer, there is a perfectly innocent explanation.

See, I have this thing about blades.  I love them.  A lot.  I have near orgasms at the sight of a finely crafted sword or knife.  But, I also believe blades are meant to be used.  I don't go for those decorative pieces of crap that just sit there and pretend to be something they are not.  (A lot like trophy wives.)  This mean, my dagger gets used.  I use it for a number of things, but lately it is the blade that cuts ripe veggies off the plant.  (You never just yank them off as it could damage the plant.  Besides, it only seems polite that if you're going to rob the plant of its fruit the least you can do is cut it cleanly instead of trying to tear it off like a hangnail.)

Of course, it was at that realization that I had my dagger in my hand, not in its sheath, that I quite possibly looked like a lunatic.  So, I quickly hid the knife behind my leg and ran off to the garden.  I hoped that she actually passed in front of my house and saw me in the side yard using the blade to move aside the prickly leaves and vines of the cucumbers to see if any of the vegetables were ready to harvest.  I hoped that she saw that so she didn't think I was actually behind my house cutting up a body and feeding it to the raccoons.  Of course, I didn't dare look up to see if she was passing by because then it just makes it weird, like I'm trying to hide something...

So, I checked my cukes (none were ready yet) and nonchalantly went inside, careful to hide the dagger behind me.

Although, I'm not sure why I care what people think.  It's not like I was covered in blood with an insane gleam in my eye.  I was just kind of staring vacantly at the brown haze in the air...looking a little...

Crap.




___________________
And, yet, I am still not the strangest one in this neighborhood.  

I have a machete and I am not afraid to use it!

Okay, I know this is going to sound stupid before I type it, but I feel the need to share so others don't repeat the mistakes I make.  Besides, if I can't hand out a few laughs at the same time, then what good am I?

So, yeah, let's get this over with.

I didn't know cucumbers climb.

Yes, I know they are vines, but not all vines are climbers  I mean, look at my pumpkin, for instance, could you see it trying the same stunt?  And, honestly, it's the fault of my grandparents.

I know Grandma is looking down at me from the hereafter saying, "Do what now?"  (Probably in Cajun.)

You see, anytime my grandparents grew cucumbers, which was pretty much every year, they just let them spread out on the ground.  So, this is what I thought you did with cucumbers.  (Then again, I was also a kid who was nearly convinced by my grandfather I was born from a pot of gumbo.)  When my cucumbers started their ground spreading, I figured all was right with the world.

Then, they started getting into my beans.  And, by "getting into my beans" I mean grabbing a hold of them with these freaky little tendrils as if they were out to strangle them one stem at a time.  I pointed out to a friend that I didn't understand why my cucumbers were a) trying to murder my beans and b) growing towards the house.

"They are looking for something to climb," she said.

"They're cucumbers," I said.

"Yes?"

"They don't climb," I said.

She looked at me as if I had suddenly sprouted frog legs out of the sides of my head.

I continued to live into denial until I walked into the sun room one day and saw this:

Caaandygram.

Yes, that is one of my cucumbers climbing the screen on the window.  Apparently, no longer happy devouring my beans, it's now after the house.  And, trust me, this isn't the only one I found.  I would go outside to get a better picture of the invasion, but the last time I walked outside while the sun was out, it took me an hour to peel my clothes off as they had all but permanently adhered to my body through sweat and the melting of unnatural fibers.

Of course, it could be that's why they are climbing the house.  It may not be some primal need to climb more than they are actually trying to come into the house to get out of the blast furnace that has become our summer.  I can't say that I blame them.

However, I will say:

KEEP A KNOCKIN' BUT YOU CAN'T COME IN!  KEEP A KNOCKIN' BUT YOU CAN'T COME IN!


*dances away*




____________________
Of course, it might be a bad idea to tease them like that seeing as how they have tried to grow under the sun room as well, which makes me think they're going after the A/C unit on the other side.  If they can't have A/C, no one can...

At least I'll get a lot of pickles this year

I went today to get some neem for my tomatoes as something is eating the blossoms before they can fruit.  I haven't found anything else wrong with the plants.  I mean they are about three feet tall.  There is no reason they shouldn't be bearing fruit by now.  Well, the nursery was out of neem, but the nice gentleman who helped me suggested this other stuff.  It appears to be a hormone to help the blossoms.  Unfortunately, it wasn't until I got it home that I realized that it was also a pesticide.  Now, see, I've been avoiding such things, but since I already bought it, I figured I'd try it to see if it works.  If not, there is a homemade organic spray I'm going to make and try.

I'll try to get a good pic of the tomatoes later, but here is my garden in general.

Still not dead!

You can see the tomatoes way in the back.  But, what I would like you to take notice of is the huge section of green on the right hand side near the house.

That would be the cucumbers.  Inside that jungle of leaves is part of the row of bush beans.  I mentioned in my last post that I have tried very hard to convince the cucumbers they want to grow the other direction, but they are definitely not listening.  So, yeah, I don't see a lot of beans this year.

However, I have gotten this:

Ta-da!

My first beautiful, lovely, delicious cucumber!  I was checking some of the baby cukes I've seen, and was shocked to find this guy hiding under the leaves.  I immediately wanted to slice it up and eat it with a dash of salt, but my need to show it off to my friends is holding me back.  (Hey, we are all attention whores in our own way.)

Apparently, the cucumbers are enjoying this godawful heat.  I have three more that are close to ready.  Funnily enough, one of them is round and about the size of a baseball and another looks like a gourd.  I'm not sure what would cause a cucumber to distort into another shape, but I'm hoping the oddness continues.  I want to put them out in a big bowl on the dining table when I have friends over as proof that my innate weirdness is even contagious to my plants.  There's something inherently satisfying to know that one's own weirdness actually warps the world around her.

I knew there was a reason I was put on this earth.




___________________
A lady at the nursery suggested that it could be the fact that it's over 75 degrees at night that could be doing a number on my tomato blossoms and could be why my pumpkin isn't fruiting since they just aren't getting a chance to cool down.  I keep telling everyone the sun is evil, but do they listen?  Noooooooo...