Beech Tree News Network

There are five perfect little pumpkins sitting in a row on a bench on my front porch.  I’ve tried for years, with very little success, to raise pumpkins.  The five pumpkins on my porch are from a beautiful plant that came up in my compost pile.  There is only one problem with my five little pumpkins.  It’s July.  They will cease to be by October, when my granddaughter will need one to carve for Halloween.  There is one critical thing you have to realize about seeds, pumpkin or any other, once that seed germinates, there is a predetermined date, on which it will bear fruit.  When the seed package gives you a date to maturity, it is not an estimate or a guess or even a stab in the dark.  You can set your clock by that date.  Every plant in a garden—or compost pile—is like that.

There is another thing I’ve learned about growing things.  You can count on either corn or tomatoes or green beans reaching that maturity date during the week you take a vacation.  It makes no difference if you make plans to take your vacation on the week after you put your seeds in the ground, if you have a garden, something will waylay those plans, and you will find yourself setting off for the beach or the mountains or up the east coast at the precise time one of those three vegetables will be at the height of production.  Hopefully, you will have good neighbors, like we do, who will gather the produce for you while you’re away.  If not, don’t worry, the rabbits, raccoons and deer will gather it for you.

Speaking of deer and their gathering skills, I have barely gotten a mess of Whippoorwill peas this year, because the deer keep eating them right at the peak of maturity.  One evening, Garey, armed with a BB pistol, decided he was going to lie in wait for them.  Before you call the animal rights people, he planned to only sting them in the behind.  When our granddaughter, Sabria, got wind of the plan, she decided she wanted in on the action.  She was already dressed for bed, but very little will deter Sabria when she is on a mission, so out the door she went, dressed in a Minions gown and flip flops, with her little pink flashlight strapped to her wrist.  Garey and she returned a couple of hours later.  The deer were a no-show, and Sabria was sorely disappointed.  

The garden has given me many memories with that little girl.  I will always remember her in that Minions gown and pink flip flops.  I will always remember her telling on me to her Papa—she was three—when I accidentally chopped down a corn plant while hoeing, and I will always see her little face peering at me from the other side of the green bean trellis while showing me a green bean of monstrous proportions.  

The garden has given me some good memories, but as I think I’ve mentioned before, it has been the scene of some epic arguments between Garey and me.  I thought we had put that phase of our lives behind us, but this year a disagreement arose between the two of us that we have yet to resolve, and it is all the zucchini’s fault.  I know this is unbelievable, but we had never raised zucchini until this year.  

Like most things Garey raises, the zucchini flourished.  Let me rephrase, it looks like it’s on steroids.  The argument the two of us have had all summer is when to pick it.  I say it’s ready at about 8 to ten inches in length.  Garey wants to leave it until it’s the size of a Louisville Slugger.  If I get to it before he does, he fusses at me for picking it to small.  When he brings it in with the stem sticking out of a five gallon bucket, I tell him there’s no way it will be fit to eat.

“You need to see how they sell them at the grocery store,” I say.

“Don’t tell me about selling zucchini,” he fires back, “Who spent days at the farmers market in Birmingham?  There were people all around me selling zucchini, and it looked just like the size I’m picking.”

And never the twain shall meet.

All in all, it’s been a really good growing season for a garden.  We’ve had a lot of help from our daughter, Natalie, and her husband, Scott.  They’ve helped pick, break, shuck, can and freeze enough stuff to feed our families for a good long while.  After all, that’s what a garden is all about, feeding your family.  That, and arguing over who’s right about the size of the zucchini.