A labour of love

Before I talk of the cucumber and how it's doing, let me quickly give a run-down on the remaining. The french bean has more beans now, may be 7-10. The asparagus has found its home in a snug grow-bag. A grow-bag works similar to the grow bed, except that it's much smaller...with enough coco-peat in it to cater to a single plant and its' root system. 

Both the tomatoes have yellow blossoms. Tomatoes are monoecious, meaning the same plant has both the female and male flowers. Some (read female) of these would develop into tomatoes. Wind and bees help in pollination and fertilization for tomato plantation under azure canopies. Inside here, neither have a chance. So, I need to figure out how I become the instrument of love between the yin and yang. On that, later.

The bell peppers seem to be doing well, as does the one radish (which bountifully contributes its long green leaves to my daily dose of salad), the one spring onion, the bell peppers, the chillies and the saplings of the recently planted bell peppers/ tomatoes. The greens in the rafts are a constant source of joy and crunch at lunch.

And then there was the evening run. Along side, the sun. And when you see the world in the light as I saw then, you can't but help feel blessed.

You run better and you think.

 If you've seen the movie 'Gods Must Be Crazy-II', you might recollect a funny sequence where a honey-badger gets after the scientist-pilot (played by Hans Strydom). It starts when the animal happens to find Hans' shoe something to wreak its vengeance at. All Hans' efforts to shake off the badger fail. It constantly trails him through the desert. It's hot...dry...parched earth and both Hans and the badger seem close to collapse. The good guy that Hans is, he ultimately lands up carrying the badger and finally gets it to a shady grove, where-after the animal stops trailing him. You could watch it at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dNCUh4QJCYo

The aphids seem as persistent as the badger. They love the cucumber. It's leaves and stems are juicy. After all, these still continue to derive nutrition from the large reservoir of nutrient solution underneath. I've snipped off all the large, aphid eaten/ infested leaves. It's just the new ones that I tend to. And I really am tending to them. Twice a day. Morning and evening. I turn each leaf and go through the process of surprise (to see the aphids with a collective soul of the above mentioned weasel back yet again), determination (set to clean them, all over again) and patience (for it is genuine labour characterized by gentle, firm and a thorough use of fingers. I've given up on the soft cloth thing. My bare fingers prove more effective). The encouraging thing is, the number of new leaves has steadily been on the rise. Here...

So with the simile almost complete, I wonder if I need to grow something now, primarily for the aphids to feed on, as my final act of kindness.