When I’m old and senile, I will speak fondly of the summer of 62 pumpkins.
Because, I have actually harvested 62 pumpkins (and other gourds) this year and I’m ridiculously proud of it. I never plan to stop talking about it. Ever.
It’s been 100 degrees here. But it’s also September so I’ve given myself permission to display every last pumpkin.
Some may say, “Kim … what can you possibly do with 62 pumpkins?”
Well, you of little faith. I can put them in wagons. I can put them in flower pots.
I can stuff them into the window boxes where all the summer plants have been neglected and left to die.
The dead plants sort of look intentional for the natural state of fall. I mean … yes. They are totally intentional. Ushering in fall.
You know what the best part of the pumpkins are? That the ones that did the best in the garden were from the decaying pumpkins I just threw out there last winter. They went NUTS and rewarded me heftily. Even the pretty Cinderella pumpkins, in beautiful heirloom colors and shapes that everyone says are difficult to grow.
I just threw out the pumpkins from last year and left them to their own devices. Basically, my garden has rewarded me for my laziness.
Who else has been kneeling to the pumpkin gods this year?
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