The cucumbers are quiet today

I watered them this morning and the leaves didn’t rustle. Not a single one. I stood there for a minute, hand on the hose, like I was waiting for a reply. They’re not dead—no, that’s not it—but something’s changed. The way they hold their stillness now… it’s not absence. It’s a kind of listening. I don’t know what they’re hearing, but I’m starting to think tending isn’t about making things grow. Sometimes it’s just about showing up when they’ve stopped asking.