The Not-Cucumber

I started removing the vegetable garden about a week ago, but haven’t been able to finish up until yesterday.  All week my husband has been asking (in his funny French accent), “Did you see the long, big, coh-cohm-ber?”  And every day I look for the “coh-cohm-ber” and can’t find it.  What is he seeing that I can’t see?  I ask myself.  My cucumbers were a vibrant yellow variety this year, as I’ve mentioned, and would reflect the slanting rays of fall sunlight.  But every day as I pass by after walking the dog, I can find nothing.

Yesterday was one of those perfect fall days you don’t want to end.  The sky was a deep, deep blue, the sun was hot, and the breeze was almost musical.  I grabbed my gloves and pulled up stakes, snapped zip-ties, shook clumps of dirt from root balls, and folded up my vines into compost bags.  I found my labels and washed them off to remember what I planted for next year.  I grabbed the monstrous zucchini vine last of all….and there it was.  Not a “coh-cohm-ber” at all, but a giant, hulking, dark green, hard-to-miss zucchini. Three and a half pounds of not-cucumber.  And three hours later it became not-cucumber bread.

Freshly washed not-cucumber; with a wine bottle, for size comparison

That same husband also picked a huge number of hard, green tomatoes out of the compost when he got home and brought them proudly into the kitchen.  “Here!” he said, triumphantly.  “I brought you these!”  I am pretty sure he knows they’re tomatoes.

I think next year we might need a bit of training.