Feast or Famine

I have a garden. Well, actually, several of them - mostly flowers (which I love! If hubby had his way, we'd have grass and trees. Only. Ugh.) but I also have one veggie garden.

Last year was the Year Of The Chipmunks - they were abundant and voracious. They ate EVERYTHING they could find: seeds, plants, young veggie crops. Indeed, food was plentiful enough that they would only take the best. I found pea pods they had opened and eaten the nice green peas from, but rejected the shell. A bite from this tomato and that tomato - couldn't eat the entire thing. Noooooo.... And they decimated my cucumber crop by eating the plants. The PLANTS. Huh?

This year, by golly, I was going to have cucumbers. I bought two (count 'em, two) eight packs of cuc babies and planted them.

You know what? This year isn't the Year Of The Chipmunks. Nope. It's the year of the Cucumber That Ate Manhattan. Every couple of days I harvest 10 - 15 cucs. And I got the burpless ones that are about 12" long... you know, enough for an entire meal.

My neighbors have begun to hide from me when I visit (Please, no more cucumbers). When I ask hubby what he wants for dinner, his answer is usually: anything but cucumbers.

I only wish my writing was a prolific as those *&^% plants.

Anyone want some cuc's? Please?