The garden I didn't work to establish, the front bed, has some Japanese cucumbers in it, growing on the front fence. I threw the seeds in the bed as an afterthought. Basically ignored them. They were late. Somehow survived the heat blast. And the chickens. The late rains came right in time. They are going crazy! As are the zinnias that planted themselves, and the purple beans that planted themselves from last year's dried out leftovers.
As I picked some tender, juicy cucumbers the other day, I thought perhaps there might be some spiritual conclusions I needed to draw. OR a poem that might need to be written. Or a psalm of gratitude?
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