Green and oblong, picked fresh from the garden. The vegetable lay in my hands thick and wide. No gardening prize given to this ordinary crop, but it will go nice on a salad or dipped in hummus. Slicing down, creating thin slices to adorn a crudite platter, the inside is white. The smell is subtle, yet refreshing. Chomping down it is crunchy and lightly sweet, full of moisture. This fresh cucumber would make a great pickle if given the time. All I hear now are the birds singing outside and the rhythmic pattern of my knife on the cutting board, slicing a vegetable from my garden.
Cucumber sandwiches and English society. Outside garden party with tea and fancy petticoats and hats. No guest, no host lifts a finger; It is up to the staff to pour the tea and serve the scones and sandwiches. White bread, no crusts, baby crunch as the sandwich is brought to the Dowager’s lips. That’s lunch. Everybody take five.
Sometimes cucumbers aren’t always good. Sometimes the seeded middle can make them soggy; no pleasurable texture. A regretful bite. But when they are fresh, and perhaps a garnish to a well-muddled mint mojito, it is tasteful, elegant, and refreshing.
Aside from being sliced down the line, the cucumber can also be sliced down the middle, the seeds scooped out, the half flipped over, and expertly sliced into half-pieces. Summertime, springtime, fresh veggie platters. A clean way of living that we forgot how to do with the avalanche of desserts and breads the winter brings. The balance of life. Into the juicer the cucumbers go, creating cucumber juice, water. So good for the body, and the body feels good, the soul reflects on that.