roadside pumpkins

On a road trip last weekend, I saw pumpkins everywhere. It warmed my heart.

Even though my heart didn't need much warming since the weather felt more like July than late September. Maybe it's this sudden rash of heat and humidity that's responsible for my sudden rash of pumpkin rot.

rot

This is what happens when I become too smug and confident.I was in the front yard tending to my pumpkin plants.  Marvelling at how, thanks to a mid-summer growth spurt, I would have six decent-sized pumpkins to carve come Halloween.   Not huge. but large enough.   My daughter was on the veranda.  Looking at the pumpkin that had grown between my veranda posts.   And had received that dent.  When suddenly, she said,  "Look. This looks bad."

From where I was standing, she appeared to be pointing to a small dark spot on the pumpkin's side. "Nonsense," I replied, accustomed as I was to less-than-perfect pumpkins, "it's just one more part of this guy's unique character. It'll be fine." But by the next day, one spot had become several . . .

. . . and six pumpkins were on their way to becoming five.

pumpkin chai

It may have been the cover photo on the brochure that drew me in.

I've been needing to replenish my tea supply for a while now, and Davids' new fall list gave me the motivation to do just that.Pumpkin Chai is described as tasting of "Cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, plus the sweetness of caramel and pumpkin candy."  I can attest to that.  This tea may surpass pumpkin ale (of which I have found few that I truly enjoy) on the list of my autumn beverages of choice.

But it still lags slightly behind pumpkin spice latte.

bent

I've been watching the pumpkin that's been growing between the posts on my veranda. It's been one of the more successful aspects of my vertical pumpkin growing experiment. And I believed that, as the pumpkin grew larger, the posts would quite naturally push it forward and onto the veranda floor.

But no.

When I took a closer look, I discovered to my horror that the posts were indeed squeezing the pumpkin.  But they were holding it captive.  Denting its sides.  Preventing the areas in contact with the posts from expanding.  Luckily, I check on my pumpkins regularly.  And was able to rescue the little guy before it became hopelessly trapped.  Apart from a couple of dents, it continues to thrive.  But it opens up a world of possibilities.  Maybe next year, I'll try this . . .

pumpkin renaissance

Back in July, the situation was bleak.

A cold, rainy June and a July of less than average amounts of sunshine meant crops were a couple of weeks behind schedule.  At best.  Including my pumpkins.  When they finally emerged from the soil, they were immediately set upon by a still-unidentified predator.  Only three plants survived.  Even the seedlings I had purchased at a garden centre as my back-up were not immune.  In fact, they were the first to go.  I was devastated.

I felt I might never plant another pumpkin seed.

Then, in August, everything changed.  The weather didn't appear to improve dramatically.  But my pumpkin plants did.  Those last survivors, which had been limping along for weeks, suddenly sprung to life.  Extending their stems and vines across my front garden and amongst the shrubs and perennials.

Even climbing the sides of my veranda as I had envisioned months ago.

Producing strong healthy leaves that seemed less susceptible to whatever creature had been feasting upon them. 

And best of all, despite the numerous fledgling pumpkins that had withered and died before their lives had truly begun,  four pumpkins thrived and grew larger.  Leaving me hopeful about their carving potential.  All four are already larger than the biggest of last year's crop.  They just need to survive for a few more weeks.

I'm not sure if I can take the credit for the stunning turnaround in the pumpkin patch. Perhaps it was my diligence in watering and fertilizing and checking on their progress each day. Making sure they were comfortable.  Perhaps it was the mid-summer weather.  The alternating weeks of rain. And sunshine. And more rain.   Whatever the reason, my faith has been restored.  I'm not ready to throw in the pumpkin-planting towel quite yet.

the usual suspects

My three remaining pumpkin plants appear to have overcome the monster that threatened to devour them earlier in the season.   The creature that consumed the majority of their comrades.  That promised to eradicate every last pumpkin plant in my front yard.  While it's still too early to tell if any pumpkins will survive, with such tough survivors around them, I remain cautiously optimistic.  But I am disappointed that  I was never able to positively identify the culprit.

I've had my suspicions.

At first, I thought it might have been the ubiquitous ants, which seem to crawl over every inch of the soil in my garden.

There is indeed  "No menace like it".  But while the ants are clearly in control of my yard, and while I can testify to the fact that killing one  means that two take its place, they have not posed a problem to my garden plants in the past.  No, a more likely suspect might be  . . . the slugs.  Having undoubtedly enjoyed my hostas, they may have been looking to add variety to their diet.

But while slugs are stealthy creatures, their numbers have been few this season.  From outer space or not, they would have needed to pick up the pace to wreak the havoc that had been bestowed upon my young plants in the spring.  The slugs were cleared.

Then, visiting my struggling pumpkin plants one day, I was startled by a grey fluttering amongst the leaves.  Leading me to suspect . . . moths.  Until now, they've been primarily concerned with destroying my front yard grass in a larval form (that's another story) but they may have moved on in search of new adventure.

 

Whether motivated by love or by the desire for pumpkin leaves and stems, the moths were a real possibility.  My prime suspects.  Until I was ambushed by . . . grasshoppers.  Everywhere.  Jumping with wild abandon throughout my front garden.  But in particular, amongst the pumpkins . . .   One was even resting comfortably within a pumpkin leaf.

Yes, it could have been the grasshoppers.  In Horrorscope.  The beginning of the end indeed for most of my plants.  But I can only speculate about their guilt. 

And I still have my suspicions about my neighbours' cats.

doubt

I'm trying not to panic. Trying not to lose faith. But I know that by this time of year, professional pumpkin growers are preparing for their harvests. And I know that by this time last year, my seven healthy pumpkins, while not huge, were the size of grapefruits. This year, thanks to a very wet and cold summer and a still-unidentified creature devouring the majority of my plants, I am left with only three plants and twice as many fledgling pumpkins. The largest of which currently looks like this . . .

. . . and measures two whole inches in length.

I'm putting on a brave face in front of the pumpkins. But I'm also secretly planning an autumn visit to a favourite local pumpkin patch.  Don't hate me, Great Pumpkin.

visitors

It seems I have some unwelcome visitors in the pumpkin patch.  And they're hungry.  Very hungry.

maybe He won't notice

It's not that things don't look promising in the pumpkin patch.  They do.  Eight plants have sprouted and they look healthy. I have every reason to feel optimistic.

But then . . . I was at my local garden centre on the weekend.  Taking advantage of some discounts.  And I saw them.  There on the vegetable shelf.  Between the tomato plants and the summer squash.  A few remaining pumpkin plants. A bit tired and pale.  But certainly capable of surviving.  Maybe even thriving.  I had seen them earlier in the season of course. When they were more plentiful.  But I passed them by then, preferring to begin this year's pumpkin adventure directly from seed.

Now, however, I began to have second thoughts.  They appeared to have a head start on the recently sprouted plants in my yard.  It wouldn't hurt to buy a few.  For added variety. And to increase my chances of pumpkin success.  They were smaller varieties.  But then again, my "large" pumpkins didn't grow particularly large last year. So four new plants accompanied me home.

I hope the Great Pumpkin doesn't interpret this as a lack of sincerity.

they're alive . . . aliiiive!

Despite a ridiculous amount of rain (or maybe because of it) several pumpkin plants have emerged and are looking quite sturdy.

Fingers are crossed for a successful year.

visions of vertical pumpkins

Today is the day. The day on which I embark upon my third consecutive year of pumpkin gardening. Admittedly, June 5th is a late start. But it's been a late spring. A cold spring. And I wanted to be sure the threat of frost had truly passed. I take no chances with my pumpkin seeds.

Anyone familiar with the often tragic tale of my pumpkin-growing adventures will recall that the first year was an unmitigated failure. With lovely flowers, but no lovely pumpkins. Zero pumpkins.

Then, last year, in a determined effort to learn from my mistakes, I moved the location of my pumpkin crop from the back yard to the front yard. Where it would have the benefit of more sunshine. And the benefit of an exceptionally warm and sunny summer. The result was seven pumpkins. Seven small pumpkins. But seven pumpkins, nonetheless.

The only drawback to growing pumpkins in the front yard was the way in which those pesky vines tended to grasp anything in their path and not let go. Including the grass on my lawn. I knew that pumpkin vines would spread, but I was taken aback at just how tenaciously they held on to the surrounding vegetation. I had envisioned simply lifting the plants and mowing the grass around them. But no. My pumpkin vines wouldn't hear of it. So the lawn remained unmowed for a few months. I began to develop a reputation in the neighbourhood.

This year, I am employing a third strategy. Hoping for at least the moderate success of last year's crop and a vine-free front lawn, I will be attempting to grow pumpkins vertically. Using my veranda as a support. I am optimistic. I have visions of thick, healthy plants and huge orange gourds gracing my front porch throughout the summer and into the fall. But while I've been assured that vertical pumpkin-growing is indeed possible, I worry that the pumpkins might grow too large and heavy and simply snap off before maturity.

Then again, if the sizes of last year's pumpkins are a reliable predictor of this year's success, I likely have nothing to worry about.

pumpkin planning

So I'm walking through the department store en route to the cat food, and while passing the newly stocked garden department, I can't fail to notice a large rack of seed packets. Then, while perusing said seed packets, my eyes fall upon a particularly large one.

With a name like "E Z Gro Monster", how can I resist?

I'm in the midst of contemplating a new location for my pumpkin patch this year. It will have to remain in the front of the house. This seems to be the only part of my yard that receives enough sunlight. But I'm hesitant about repeating last year's experiment and planting pumpkins in the front yard. The grasping vines made mowing the grass all but impossible by mid-summer. And while that provided a nice, atmospheric effect in October, it wasn't quite so attractive in July and August.

So this year, the pumpkin patch will remain in front, but closer to the house. I think I'll make another attempt at growing pumpkins vertically. This time with better support. The veranda railings might work nicely . . .

sinking fast

Halloween was followed by nearly a solid week and rain and wind. My intrepid little pumpkins survived, thanks to the shelter of the front porch and the shrubs. And a few blown leaves. Nevertheless, it's clear to me that they are reaching the end of their lives. But I can't bear to say good-bye to them just yet.

halloween night

It was an enjoyable Halloween night in spite of the rain. And in spite of a grasshopper that turned out more "cute" than sinister. And in spite of the chaos that resulted from having a sci-fi convention coincide with Halloween. At least next year, with Halloween on a Monday, I'll have a day to catch my breath.

Lights out for another year.

happy halloween

Happy Halloween!

. . . and then there were six

(Can of pureed pumpkin for sizing purposes only. Not intended for intimidation of surrounding pumpkins.)

The final harvest has taken place and in the end I find myself with a grand total of six pumpkins. Instead of my earlier, more optimistic prediction of eight.

One pumpkin tragically rotted on the vine. Just when it seemed to be doing so well and on its way to becoming the largest of the crop. I blame insects. Or perhaps sabotage by the second largest pumpkin.

I coped with the loss and resigned myself to seven pumpkins. And then the six year-old across the street offered me a dollar for one of them. How could I refuse? And no, I didn't take the dollar.

So now there are six. And considering that last year, there were none, I'm calling this a successful season.

Dill's atlantic dwarf

This monument to Howard Dill, The Pumpkin King, stands in his hometown of Windsor, Nova Scotia. Dill's farm, near Windsor, was home to his record-setting pumpkins and spawned a line of pumpkin seeds, appropriately named Dill's Atlantic Giant.



So naturally, this past spring, while planning my new and improved pumpkin patch, I decided that Dill's Atlantic Giant would be among the varieties I planted. His farm, after all, is located only an hour's drive from my front yard. What worked for him should work for me.

And work they did. My Dill's Atlantic Giant seeds yielded numerous plants. Strong vines. Large, bright yellow flowers. And eventually, several pumpkins. Overall, a success.

I would, however, make one minor recommendation to the seed people. I would recommend changing the name of these seeds. Because based upon my experience, a more fitting moniker might be Dill's Atlantic Dwarf. Just a suggestion.

last days of the pumpkin patch

If these dry leaves and withered vines are any indication, the time to harvest the remaining pumpkins is quickly approaching.

Happy Thanksgiving

It appears that turkeys have impressive pumpkin carving skills. Who knew?

Happy (Canadian) Thanksgiving.

Halloween Decorating

Time to decorate! 

My favorite chore on my Holiday to-do list.

Oak Galls now available in ETSY.