Cornichons

I have a new appreciation for cornichons.  

There are cucumbers on our vines. (I say "our" only because I'm married to the person whose vines these really belong to - the one who plants, waters, weeds, and harvests.)  But while my spouse is away, it's my job to go out every morning and look for the hidden green treasures.  

What this task has revealed to me is that cucumbers don't spring fully formed from the vine. There are dozens of tiny cuke babies, not ready to be picked by my standards. But what about cornichons? A cornichon says, "I don't have to be big to be fabulous. I am perfect and enough." This flies in the face of human nature - and American culture. Bigger is better.  

So today I stood at the vines and contemplated.  There were three cucumbers that were perfectly lovely.  But they weren't that big - sort of smallish dill pickle size.  And I knew that if I left them on the vine, they'd get BIGGER, which means MORE cucumber for me!  I stood there, stuck.  I handled each one - to pick or not to pick?  I went inside, got the compost, took the compost outside, went back to the vine. Considered.  I harvested some lettuce from a barrel, took it inside, came back out. 

In the end, I realized that there is no right choice - or wrong choice.  I did make sure to pluck today's one red cherry tomato before I went inside to have my breakfast.