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There was a day in my summer when our cucumbers looked like this:

Three containers bursting with life.  Hundreds of yellow blossoms heralding the arrival of bitty baby cukes.

I was full of hope and anticipation for the day when my counter would be covered with cucumbers.  I would spend days making my tasty bread and butter pickles.  I couldn’t wait!

Then one morning, I woke up to find the leaves slightly brown.  The next morning, they were very brown and slightly shriveled.  By the next day, all hope was lost.  No, I didn’t take a pic.  The condition of my once lustrous garden was too sad to chronicle for all eternity.  I owe them that.

What did I do?  What didn’t I do?  Who knows.  I had a whole post planned in my mind for the day when I picked those cucumbers.  Not to mention all the pints of pickles I had planned to make.

Thank goodness we have a new farmer’s market here in town.  I was able to purchase about 22 chubby little picklin’ cukes.  That wasn’t my original plan, but it worked.  The day was saved.  The pickles were made.  More on that in my next post.

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