Curl As A Cucumber

Day 319: I have often said that although I can grow beautiful flowers, I am almost a complete failure at vegiculture. I flunked zucchini, failed radishes, got an F in green beans. Now we can add cucumbers to the list, unless this one deserves redemption as capital-A Art. From stem end to blossom end, it forms a curl of nearly 540 degrees, and would have made the full circle-and-a-half had not that blasted little chipmunk gnawed off the tip. What caused it to grow so strangely? Was it lack of water? A cold snap? A hot spell? Poor soil? Any of the above might or might not apply. I think perhaps the pots which now contain said curly cucumber and two sickly tomato vines will be given over to some type of berry next year. A berry is a fruit, and therefore they seem to be unaffected by the black thumb which governs vegetables under my care. After all, one should play to one's strengths.

Sickletop Lousewort, Pedicularis Racemosa

Day 288: I find the Louseworts to be intriguing for the wide range of flower shapes exhibited within the genus. Some are vaguely reminiscent of snapdragons. Some are beaked, including one which takes it so far to the extreme that the flower resembles a tiny purple elephant face, the trunk curving gently upward. Sickletop puts me in mind of a poem from my childhood: "There was a little girl / Who had a little curl / Right in the middle of her forehead. / When she was good / She was very, very good / But when she was bad / She was horrid." Sweet Sickletop, of course, is the good girl in the verse, and I've never seen her naughty. In fact, she's rather shy, nodding beneath her leaves when other Louseworts show off their flowers on a spike. Eight species of Pedicularis can be found in Mount Rainier National Park. Look for them in subalpine meadows.