Why are my cucumbers orange? They’re turning yellow-orange, to be precise…
This summer we have enjoyed more productive cucumber plants than ever before, but recently the enormous fruit are discoloring from green to yellow to orange before we can eat them. Here’s the reason why.
Cucumbers turn orange when they grow excessively ripe before harvesting, explains Veggie Gardener. The cucumbers first turn yellow, and if left on the vine, they quickly develop a vibrant orange hue. This happens because chlorophyll levels decrease past the point of peak ripeness… [They become] very bitter and unsuitable for human consumption. (Source: Ask.com)
Bitter. It’s true. I taste tested just to make sure they were no longer suitable for human consumption. They aren’t, though our caretaker assured us that his wife can still turn them into pickles. I encouraged him to take all he could haul!
Our yellow and/or orange cucumbers are an unfortunate result of the extended heat wave and drought we’ve been enduring. It’s true we may have overplanted. But our beautiful cukes growing, greening, and spoiling before our eyes is heartbreaking. What to do?
The only way to prevent cucumbers from turning yellow and orange is to harvest them at the proper time. Ripe cucumbers have firm flesh with a medium-green rind and feel heavy for their size. Most varieties ripen between 50 and 70 days after planting. Size is also an important indicator of ripeness. Each cucumber variety has a different optimal size and quickly develops a bitter flavor if allowed to grow larger. Some cucumbers, such as those used for pickling, are naturally smaller than other varieties. Consequently, gardeners must know what type of cucumber they have planted and the target size for ripe specimens in that category. The most common cause of orange and yellow cucumbers is over-ripening, but the discoloration is sometimes a symptom of the Cucumber Mosaic Virus. According to Gardening Know How, the Mosaic Virus produces soft, mushy cucumbers with mottled patches and curled, withered leaves. This incurable virus also affects peppers. When a cucumber displays symptoms of the Mosaic Virus, the best course of action is to remove it from the garden. (Source: Ask.com)
The good news is that we don’t have Cucumber Mosaic Virus. But the bad news is that our compost is becoming overwhelmed with yellow and orange cucumbers. Perhaps we should redistribute these technicolor cukes to our wild neighbors for their enjoyment? (See Woodchucks & Cucumbers!)
Ever wonder how cucumbers would taste for breakfast? One of the joys of vegetable (and fruit) gardening is the opportunity to try new things, dip into the abundance in unusual ways, and experiment with combinations of ingredients and unusual pairings. As it turns out, a handsome woodchuck — a North American marmot (Marmota monax), if I’m not mistaken — and I agree on the appeal of cucumbers for breakfast!
Don’t get me wrong, I’m a cucumbers-for-breakfast newbie, but I can confidently vouch for the refreshing crunch of peeled, sliced cucumber with your first mug of coffee, tea, or MUD|WTR. Especially when you lather it with honey roasted peanut butter. It’s practically a full, balanced meal.
From garden to table with anticipation.
A healthy dab or two of peanut butter.
Delicious! Turns out cakes (w/peanut butter) are a perfect breakfast food!
You convinced? Try it!
Woodchuck Chuck
Our hungry Rosslyn marmot, let’s call him Woodchuck Chuck (more of a nod to my juvenile enthusiasm than a gift for gabbing with varmints), turns out to love cucumbers for breakfast too. And his palette doesn’t even depend on peanut butter to tempt.
After a couple nights of excessive buffet-ing his way through the veggies, we decided it was time for relocation. He’d burrowed himself a cozy accommodation beneath a temporary rock pile adjacent to the garden, so that’s where we placed the live trap. A broken up cucumber proved irresistible, and we were able to assist with his relocation to a less populated area with plenty to eat and no pesky gardeners vying for harvest priority.
Woodchuck Chuck, sated on cukes
Will Woodchuck Chuck return? Perhaps. But if he’s anticipating a never ending smorgasbord, well, hhhmmm… Maybe peanut butter?
After sharing pics on our Instagram (@rosslynredux) and Facebook (@rosslynredux) feeds it seems that peanut butter *might* be the secret sauce.
Sara Star: Looks like you trapped the varmint. Did you use peanut butter? It’s great bait for critters. We have live trapped a few skunks with it, and relocated. That woodchuck looks big!
Geo Davis: Huge! We didn’t even need to resort to peanut butter, just chopped up cucumber bits. Next time we re-relocate him it might require peanut butter though…
Sara: Such are the challenges of growing good food. Everyone wants to eat your veggies.
Geo: Heheh. True enough. Cheers to good food (and enough to share!)
And another similar experience.
Lorraine Townsend Faherty: we re-homed one (very chubby fellow) a few years ago using PB as bait for the trap. He knew how to get pb out of trap without getting himself trapped. but we persevered and he was taken away.
You see? Peanut butter.
Marmots & Abundance
Whether or not I’ve inspired you to try cucumbers for breakfast — with or without peanut butter, with or without woodchucks — it’s worth concluding this post with some context. Gardens invite eaters. Human eaters. But also insects, mollusks (yes, slugs are actually gastropods), birds, animals, and all manner of hungry opportunists. So what’s an organic gardener to to?
I post often about our various creative solutions for gardening holistically, but I’ve never talked about marmots. And the reason is, until now, we’ve never felt with garden pressure from marmots. Deer, yes. Raccoon, yes. And plenty of others. But no marmots until Woodchuck Chuck. So this is a first foray but not likely a final foray. I’ll update if/when useful developments.
Until then, it’s worth reiterating my underlying assumption that garden–to–table lifestyle need not focus on scarcity. I’ve likely explained that my gardening philosophy (upon rereading this sounds decidedly stodgier than intended) is an abundance mindset. What?!?!
An abundance mindset refers to the paradigm that there is plenty out there for everybody. (Source: Forbes)
Wait… what? Gardening enough for everybody? Everybody?!?!
Actually, pretty much yes.
We overgrow in the hopes that there will be plenty for us to enjoy even when our wild neighbors help themselves. Within reason. But when a wild neighbor, Woodchuck Chuck for example, gorges to excess, then we try to get creative. If our first relocation attempt is unsuccessful, then we’ll brainstorm how to leverage the magic of peanut butter!
Did Punxsutawney Phil see his shadow? Is spring around the corner? Are we headed into six more weeks of winter?
In this high tech era of satellites forecasting weather from beyond the beyond, intricate algorithms gobbling gargantuan data sets, and media channels dedicated to analyzing and communicating meteorological mysteries in real time, we still get excited on February 2 to see how a groundhog will react to brisk midwinter conditions. It’s folksy fun, I suppose. Maybe a result of cabin fever…
Today the furry fellow decided it was wiser to double down on hibernation. Spring’s still a long way off, at least in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania.
To be sure, Essex isn’t exactly tropical compared to Punxsutawney, so a belated de-wintering would seem inevitable based upon this morning’s proceedings. But, I’m pro-spring, even if that puts me in disagreement with Phil.
Unlike the groundhog,
fur ruffed against shadowed chill,
I suspect springtime.
I love springtime almost as much as I love morning, and for similar reasons. So much possibility in both reawakenings!
And who’s to say that haikupoetry is any less indicative of spring’s arrival than a groundhog coddled by top hatted members of the Punxsutawney Groundhog Club gathering at Gobbler’s Knob? Not I. (Which begs the question, what *else* do marmots and micropoems have in common?)
What to make of an annual tradition centering around a groundhog venturing out of hibernation to prognosticate on the coming season? Let’s dig into the legend of Punxsutawney Phil.
Each February 2, on Groundhog Day, the members of the Punxsutawney Groundhog Club make the pilgrimage to Gobbler’s Knob, Phil’s official home.
The group waits for Phil to leave his burrow and, legend has it, if he sees his shadow we’re in for six more weeks of winter. If he doesn’t, we get to bask in an early spring.
Scientifically speaking, winter will officially come to an end on the equinox on March 20, regardless of what Phil predicts. But Mother Nature doesn’t always follow the timetable, and neither does Phil.
Though Phil has no meteorology degree, every year the United States tunes in for his prediction.
Phil’s track record is not perfect. “On average, Phil has gotten it right 40% of the time over the past 10 years,” according to the National Centers for Environmental Information, a division of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration… (Source: CNN)
So, the meteorological marmot’s not the best indicator of whether or not winter will yield early/late to spring.
This year marks the third straight year the groundhog spotted his shadow, something that he has often done since making his first prediction in 1887. Of the 127 recorded times Phil has predicted the weather, he has now seen his shadow 107 (84%) times. His longest streak of seeing his shadow remains at 31, when he saw it every year from 1903-33.
It’ll take some time to figure out if Phil’s prediction will be right, but given his history, he’s likely wrong. (Source: USA Today)
But math be damned! There’s a whimsical charm surrounding the event. Seasonality keeps us in sync with our environment, wondering and wandering about nature, so the meter-marmot’s sub 50/50 track record isn’t really the point.
To better understand the popularity of Groundhog Day, Troy Harman (Penn State University history professor and Gettysburg National Military Park ranger) talks left brain, right brain and the science-to-tradition spectrum.
“Throughout history, whenever there has been a real strong emphasis on science, its counterpart of intuition, instinct, emotion, imagination — the right side of our brain — pushes back a little bit,” Harman says, explaining that Groundhog Day took off right around the time of the industrial revolution.
He says those massive societal and technological changes spurred a desire to return to what people imagined were simpler times, in the form of things like literary romanticism and gothic revival architecture…
“I strongly suspect that the people that go to Gobbler’s Knob are fully aware of the power of science, but at the same time want to hold on to traditions and a deeper vibe,” he says. “There’s the instincts and the intuition and the imagination that every human being has that has to come into balance with logic and reason.” (Source: NPR)
It seems there’s plenty more to be said on this logic, reason, and science versus intuition, emotion, and imagination comparison, but this isn’t the time or place. And I think that Harman’s probably right. Trusting in science and logic, many/most of us still allow room for romantic traditions and intuition. It’s quite likely a part of what humanizes us.
So whether today’s shadow viewing gets chalked up on the wins side or the losses side of Punxsutawney Phil’s tally, we’re likely to see another six weeks on winter weather in Essex. Sure, there will be some balmy days when the mud oozes, but it’s a rare year that February and even much or March aren’t snowy or at least inclement. But we’re hoping this year to take advantage of the high tunnel to fast-track spring in the vegetable garden, so we just might stand a chance of realizing the optimism in my haiku!
In closing, you may be wondering what the difference is between a groundhog and a woodchuck. And what about a marmot?!?! Although the three names are often used interchangeably, the “marmot” is exactly the same as the other two. While a groundhog and a woodchuck are one and the same wildlife (taxonomically Marmota monax), the term “marmot” generally refers to the entire genus Marmota and/or the subgenus Marmota which includes the groundhog (aka woodchuck, whistlepig, monax, moonack, whistler, groundpig, etc.) Armed with that tidy tidbit of trivia you’re armed and dangerous for happy hour this evening. Cheers to Phil. Cheers to spring!
