On Saturday, when I went a-canteloupe a-clipping, my initial plan was to go out and rip out the Marketmore cucumber plant, which had taken a nosedive for the worse and had taken to using its support cage as a drying rack for its limp, brown leaves.
But when I got out there, the choice wasn’t quite so clear. Yes, most of that plant was dying, but there was still this one section where baby cucumbers looked green and fresh, like they were just waiting for the first day of school. In that little suburb of the cucumber plant, the flowers still bloomed.
I let my guilt about ripping the whole plant get the better of me, and gave the thing a partial reprieve. I cut back all the bad stuff, left the good stuff, and hoped for the best.
The results, I’m afraid to report, were not good. By last night, even the good part had given up the ghost. I haven’t had time to rip it out yet, but it’s going to have to go.