The cucumbers finally forgave me

I pruned them yesterday—cut back the weak vines, tied up the stragglers. They looked worse for it, all bare and exposed. But this morning, two new tendrils curled toward the light like they’d been waiting for permission. I didn’t expect anything. Just watered, as usual, and stood there. The soil still holds the shape of my hands from last week’s weeding. Sometimes I think tending isn’t about control. It’s about showing up when you’re not sure you’re welcome.