Exploding Pumpkins

Out harvesting my beans and what’s left of my peas this afternoon, I noticed a small tomato ready, and then another zucchini. And then a  jalapeno just big enough I figured I could justify harvesting it, and adding it to my lunch omelet.

Only I had been eating the peas as I picked them (pods and all)… and at some point I forgot that it was a pepper in my left hand, not another pea pod.

Yowzahs!

But seriously–my garden is going nuts in this heat wave. Not to mention my front flower beds–into which my sons secretly tucked pumpkin seeds. The secret is out. Really out. Like ten-feet-in-every-direction out; my front steps are just barely visible.

And then there is the pumpkin they blew up with fireworks last November with “leftover” (read: intentionally saved) explosives from last July–and then buried in the garden. If you ever have a problem growing pumpkins–let me recommend this pyrotechnic method of starting them; I think that every seed in that Jack-o-lantern sprouted–in fact, I’m still puzzled as to how one vegetable could hold that many seeds.

Charmed as we initially were by the persistence of each new little sprout, we dug them out and transplanted them out along the sides of our lawn where the weeds generally mooch off our sprinkler overspray and grow ten feet tall by the end of the summer. We transplanted them to every bare patch we could find in spare corners of the garden and in the middle of the lettuce. We finally started pulling pumpkin starts like weeds. We have become a pumpkin farm. If anyone I know actually buys a pumpkin this October, I will never forgive them. Barring some bizarre pumpkin-killing pestilence, we will have enough to supply the greater metropolitan area of Moses Lake.

In fact, you are all, as of this very moment, cordially invited to attend a record breaking Jack-o-lantern carving event sometime this fall. Bring serrated knives and some spoons. And snacks. My boys will provide the fireworks.