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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required CUCUMBER PARADISE Never for preserved peach or tomato - only for cucumber: Always steaming lots of big jars and sterilizing lids, Ukrainian Inna lived for the pleasure of the shiny green rosids, And dreamed of them whether awake or at slumber There was no real cuc harvest, except in her mind, yes. She lived in the big city like a single cucumber in a barn, Needing something significant in her life: living should not be in vain. She sensed when it was cuc harvest-time even in the city cuc-less. From farming village, family tradition, for work she was a stickler, But finished all jobs fast, allowed nothing to encumber Her jarred supply of cucs, even in a winter devoid of ‘cumber. Her mum and grandma had been devout picklers. In her farmer’s mind an earthy animal instinct, Like birds smelling the breeze from the south And flocking, even in their cages. Or drooling at the mouth Like doctored cats, howling in March for theoretical fulfillment. See them, amass them, pickle them without number Stick to something you’re used to: if you see it, pickle it. Give to friends, neighbours, but no real demand for it: can’t quit. Medical definition: Atavism, terminal, cucumber. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Note Charming true story about a young girl, Inna,who worked with my wife years ago. Inna's main pastime for relaxation in the huge city of St. Petersburg was pickling cucumbers, which brought back her happy family memories of the farm in Ukraine years before.
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