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What is it with the bugs this week?  First the fire ants, then the designer mystery bug, then the bumblebee with fat knees, then the ladybug-in-a-raincoat bug.  I think I ought to belatedly declare this to be insect theme week on Victory Garden Redux.

This little one was afraid of me, unfortunately.  After the first flash, she scooted away from me.  After the second, I looked up and she’d disappeared.  She turned out to be hiding on the underside of the okra leaf.  And when I poked my head under there to check on her, she freaked out and flew way over to the remaining tomato plants.  I tried to follow discreetly.  But she saw me coming and made hell-for-leather for the treeline.

Still, she’s lovely.  I would be her true blue friend if she would let me.  She was just conscious enough of me and my potential to not give me that chance.

However, I am already her true blue friend, although she doesn’t know it, in that the area under my control does not contain any substances that will harm her.  Unless she has a natural predator.  In that case, don’t blame me for how Mother Nature constructed this eat-and-be-eaten planet.  I can’t quite figure it out, either.

If that part of the plan bothers you a bit, too, I highly recommend a read through Annie Dillard’s A Pilgrim at Tinker Creek.  Not that she finds all the answers.  Or any of them, really.  It’s just that she wrestles with the questions in such a beautiful and poignant way that reading it will actually change you.

(This tiny bit of robin’s egg blue — and it was even more gorgeous in person — was all I could find for Capturing Beauty‘s Rainbow Challenge.  Good thing this is the last Blue Thursday in September.  I love blue, and yet it never occurred to me until doing this challenge that I planted almost no blue in the Victory Garden — an oversight I’ll have to remedy next year.)

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No, not the three sisters planted by the Native Americans (corn, beans, squash).  I didn’t think I had enough room for corn in my victory garden, and I wasn’t too fussed, really, because corn makes up about 70% of our diet here in North America, cleverly disguised under names like xanthan gum, modified starch, cyclodextrin, lactic acid, and MSG — not to mention the ubiquitous high fructose corn syrup.  (Did you know they’re putting HFCS in bread crumbs now?)

Just a clever name for these three lovely pickling cucumbers seen clustered together in a charming configuration on the vine.  We’ve got lots of clusters all of a sudden; I’m supposing it’s the effect of all that rain.  Sumter, by far the most prolific, has been spurred to heights of productivity that are awe-inspiring.

I know I should be daydreaming of making homemade lacto-fermented pickles.  But I cannot get my fill of these tiny, tender, delicious cukes sliced into spears and dipped in homemade buttermilk dressing.  I’ve been making the Homesick Texan’s version lately, and it’s fantastic.  I just happen to have a few of the fresh ingredients ready and waiting in my garden.

I realize I’m actually salivating as I write this post.  I’ve always liked cucumbers.  But the victory garden has made me a confirmed lover of the kind of cucumber you cannot get at a grocery store, or even possibly the farmer’s market.  Next year, F. and I have already decided, we’re devoting more land to cucumber cultivation.  Can you ever have enough of these crisp little, thin-skinned delicacies?  Maybe that’s a rhetorical question.

And here’s another rhetorical question:  Isn’t that misty blue twilight made for dreams?  It should be called “fairy light.”  I kept expecting fairies to materialize, shimmering, and the cucumber blossoms to turn out to be their flirty, twirly, lemon-yellow skirts in disguise.

Namasté, y’all.

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