At first we thought the plant sprouting in the flower garden must be a sunflower from a seed scattered by birds. Then it grew sideways, not up, and we thought, poor thing, it snapped untimely, but let it be and perhaps new stems will grow from the stump. It put on wide leaves, and we thought it might be a cucumber. Then it made its first blossom, amidst now enormous leaves, and we thought, aha, squash. Then it tendriled up from the ground and slunk across the deck, and we thought, well, it's a hybrid: it's producing nothing. Then we left for vacation.
Not a hybrid. The theory yesterday, a watermelon, given the longish ovoid shape, and we did spit watermelon seeds that direction last summer.
Yes, spit them. I am an honest girl.
The theory now that I examine it again: pumpkin. That stalk, that shape, those stripes. The boys did leave their Halloween pumpkins near until just after a proper burial was due.
It's teasing us with dozens of blooms and lurches nightly towards far side of the deck and the fence, in the neighbor's direction.
I've not planted such a thing on purpose before, and acquainted I may be with misc. mesclun greens, gherkins, tomatoes, collards, cotton, peanuts, carrots, potatoes, arugula, lettuces and radishes, yet this beast is making me nervous. Not like the other sudden plant next the side of the house, cherrily bearing cherry tomatoes and so obligingly set by a messy chipmunk.
What is he, please?
Not a hybrid. The theory yesterday, a watermelon, given the longish ovoid shape, and we did spit watermelon seeds that direction last summer.
Yes, spit them. I am an honest girl.
The theory now that I examine it again: pumpkin. That stalk, that shape, those stripes. The boys did leave their Halloween pumpkins near until just after a proper burial was due.
It's teasing us with dozens of blooms and lurches nightly towards far side of the deck and the fence, in the neighbor's direction.
I've not planted such a thing on purpose before, and acquainted I may be with misc. mesclun greens, gherkins, tomatoes, collards, cotton, peanuts, carrots, potatoes, arugula, lettuces and radishes, yet this beast is making me nervous. Not like the other sudden plant next the side of the house, cherrily bearing cherry tomatoes and so obligingly set by a messy chipmunk.
What is he, please?