More Autumn Memories:
Can you remember your excitement as a little child of selecting a big round pumpkin out of the patch on a chilly autumn day? This harvest-time vegetable brings back numerous flashbacks of Thanksgiving pumpkin pie topped off with a mound of whipped cream. Because of its gigantic size, the pumpkin must reign as the king of the garden.
My previous gardening experience gave me other reasons to believe in pumpkin royalty. After several years of dismal failure gardening pumpkins, I hit upon a new approach to their successful production. With a good base of horse manure for fertilizer, I planted quite a few seeds in the back corner of my garden. It seemed like overnight, the giant vines began to ooze out into the patch, slithering in among the cucumbers, trespassing upon the tomatoes, and wrapping their green tendrils around the pole bean stakes. It wasn’t long before there was not a corner of the garden where a pumpkin vine did not reside.
The blooms began to show themselves in bright yellow flowers giving promise of fruit to come. Each day I would check to see if we were due for some of the hearty orange squash, but it seemed to be resting after the big push to spread out its vines. I busied myself with the more productive part of the garden and had almost forgotten about pumpkins.
One day I ran across a little baby pumpkin happily gaining weight, hidden in the cucumber patch. Yes, I was going to have pumpkins! After several more weeks, I discovered another large orb, encircled by a wreath of cherry tomatoes entwined on vines.
The third pumpkin stubbornly refused to turn orange and was well camouflaged by the large, elephant ear-shaped leaves. It had hidden there until I happened to clumsily trip on it while climbing through broccoli and pepper plants. The final pumpkin stayed near its original planting spot and distinguished itself by an unusual asymmetrical shape, almost like a hat.
We took our pumpkins inside as frost was nearing. My interpretation of the Farmers’ Almanac did not make it clear whether I should allow them to freeze or not. I’d always heard that expression, “When the frost is on the pumpkin €¦ (What does that mean, anyway, and where does it come from?)”
The removal of the vines was a lot more challenging than picking the pumpkins. Because of their tendency to take over the whole garden, a lot of tearing out of attached vines and tendrils was necessary. On the chilly twilight I tackled this project, my mind flashed on “20,000 leagues Under the Sea” as the chords I ripped were wrapped around me, seeming to come to life as some enormous octopus.
The bright orange pumpkins decorated my buffet as a cheery reminder of harvest and Thanksgiving. I could imagine how grateful those early Pilgrims were as they sustained themselves on the hearty vegetable through tough times. It created feelings of gratitude for the gift of the royal pumpkin. The results of all that waiting, seeking, and tearing, provided a quartet of beauties which would fill our stomachs and our freezer in the form of pureed vegetables ready for pies, cookies, and other delicacies. It was a royal feast fit for a King, or perhaps a Queen Gardener.
Dianna
Sharing the Fruit of Maturity
