My Pop-Up Pumpkin Patch!

My Pop-Up Pumpkin Patch

Our son decided that he would use the huge pile of compost that had been acccumulating for over ten years and fill the low spots on our property with this dirt. Our compost pile has been more of an everything pile from the get-go. Grass clippings, piles of leaves, old watermelon halves that nobody wanted to finish, cucumbers that were picked too late and had turned bright orange, leftover tomato seedlings and so much more, all thrown together in a mash of anything that would break down on its own accord. We never had a purpose for this compost pile. It just started and then became what it was. 

He spent the afternoon wheelbarrowing and shovelling the beautiful, almost silky soil into the low spots in order for my husband to sprinkle them with grass seed when he was finished. Once generously seeded and watered, these newborn dirt patches would grow and blend with the rest of the property, creating one uniform bed of green. Grow they did. Blend -  they did not. 

Within a week of being spread out, raked and seeded, a thirty to forty foot wide assortment of seedlings began to sprout at an alarming rate. I immediately recognised that we had a pop-up pumpkin patch! My husband, initally thrilled with the expectation that his lawn would look more green than brown after our son's attempts the week before, shook his head and let the "pumpkin patch" grow in the middle of no-man's land, knowng it would make me happy.

Weeks of rain had nutured the already nutrient-rich compost soil and created the perfect environment for the plants to grow and spread. Over the next few weeks, long fingers of vines reached out their bony knuckles and kept grabbing and grasping at more and more space to lock down and spread. Bright yellow blossoms as big as my fist popped up and the buzzing of the insects around the patch provided a pleasant droning sound.  Little nubs popped out of the blossoms and began to show their individual colours. But wait! My dream of growing pumpkins fit to rival Charlie Brown's pumpkin patch disappeared rather quickly as I became aware of what this patch was really comprised of.   

Warted, green, pear-shaped creations, along with half yellow and half green blobs began to emerge. Versions of what looked like miniature bell peppers peeped out from under gigantic green leaves. Green and white tiger-striped globes lay in the sun. Like berries on a vine, mixed varieties of rounded yellow, green and ivory gourds made their appearance.

Gourds? I had purchased a bag of mixed gourds around Thanksgiving in the fall to use as my centrepiece for our Thanksgiving dinner with family.  After the cornucopias, autumn tablecloths and Halloween decorations had long been put away, I took the gourds left over and threw them on the compost pile by the forest. Thinking that the wildflife would nibble away at them when the cold set in, I never gave them another thought. The shells eventually broke down a bit, but the seeds obviously did what they do best. They sprouted at their first chance at sunlight and fresh air!

Every day I walk around my little patch of "surprise-here-we-are" gourds and admire their polished shells and their daily growth as they lay scattered on the ground or hang mercilessly by their long necks from hearty green stalks. Not sure what I'm going to do with all these gourds this fall. Maybe set a stand up by the road or bring them as hostess gifts once the leaves start turning.  Watching their weekly progress as they grew from embryos to full grown gourds has brought out maternal instincts in me. I make sure that everyone mows the lawn around the vines, not over and have even scolded my dogs for running over the blossoms and crushing the unsuspecting yellow babies. 

Do I want to give them up when the time comes? Not sure yet. I can picture my table at Thanksgiving piled high with an amazing plethora of fall gourds in all shapes and sizes. So that just leaves one question. Where will all the food go?

Lolita Schimann Hale