ANOTHER GARDEN STORY

While I was watching my husband’s tomatoes trying their best to grow and survive something else was going on in the garden. It was quite subtle. Only Dakota and I were aware and curious enough to spend time staring across the yard at what seemed like nothing.

As the garden grew, the tomatoes were quickly being taken over by the canopy of huge leaves and vines of the squash and cucumbers my husband had also planted. His approach to them was the same as with his tomatoes. However, the squash and cucumbers were far more aggressive and determined. Slowly they covered the tomatoes with their large leaves. I felt sorry for the tomatoes as in past years there were vines but little product. We were lucky to see one or two squash and maybe a cuke or two.

The more I watched the more I wondered why these vines and leaves had become determined to possibly take over the whole backyard. My husband continued his sparse watering and consistent feeding. I figured he was just feeding vines and loosing tomatoes in the process. I also started to wonder why Dakota was taking such an interest in this strange excuse for a garden. I noticed that Dakota was only really looking at certain spots so I decided to concentrate on one of them during an afternoon break. Suddenly a leaf moved and a little head popped out. It was a chipmunk. Our adopted chipmunks live near the house and generally don’t venture further than the bird feeder and certainly not out to the garden.

Dakota became interested in our resident chipmunks last fall when he came to live with us. That is another story to be told at a later date. He sits in the comfort of the family room and watches them through the windows. As with my past Goldens, he has no interest in chasing or capturing them. So it seemed that he found another one that came through the garden now and then and watched it from the deck.

As the summer progressed, the tomatoes were still struggling, and the vines were still growing at a fast clip. So were the number of chipmunks. They found a safe journey had developed along the fence and under the canopy of leaves and vines. Soon there were baby chipmunks playing about. I suddenly realized all of the neighborhood chipmunks loved our garden. We are a strange neighborhood in that most of the senior citizens have at least a token resident chipmunk living at their house.
I have no idea what went on under that canopy all summer but it kept Dakota occupied for hours on end. None of them came into the yard, visited the bird feeder, or ventured near the house. If they did, they were immediately confronted by our resident critters and a chase ensued until they finally took refuge back in the garden.

When fall came and frost took down the canopy of leaves it revealed a sight to behold. There were squash everywhere – big ones, small ones, even little ones – all beautifully developed with perfect coloring and hardened skins. I finally walked up and down the fence and my jaw dropped down with every step. Surely my eyes were deceiving me. I also saw long, long round sausage type somethings that were perfectly white. It only took me a minute or two to realize they were cucumbers that my husband neglected to pick and let them grow to enormous size.

Into the house came bag after bag of squash. The scene was comparable to zucchini in many gardens. I was speechless. What was I to do with this proliferation of squash. I hit the Internet to see if I could freeze all of this marvelous produce. In years past, we kept them cool in the garage or basement and ate them up before the year came to an end. This would not happen this year. Calls and emails went out to everyone that might like to have a share of my husband’s bounty. They were also passed around the neighborhood. Only one person accepted my husband’s offer and then politely “forgot” to take it home. Arrangements were made for pick-ups and bags were put by the front door.

I had been so in shock and riding such a high over this sudden abundance that I didn’t realize something was wrong with the squash. They didn’t look right. Practically every one of them had strange things on their skin. I picked one up and looked at it closely. It looked exactly like small pumpkin seeds had been glued onto the skin. They were beige/white and hard and dry. Back at my computer I could not find anything that resembled this strange happening. I rejected disease after disease. We had already eaten a number of them and given away a fair number. Oh my!!! I’d given them to friends and neighbors. Will they get sick or just throw them away. Now I was worried.

Exhausted from wasted sleep and worry, I finally wrote to Burpee. Since they had been my supplier of seeds for many years surely they would know what happened to these beautiful squash. My email message was very specific with a full description of what they looked like and an explanation of the condition of the veggies. I offered to send a digital picture of them if they needed it. They wrote back and said they would appreciate a picture. I rushed to the basement and picked two perfect examples, took them to the kitchen, and took pictures of them.

Quickly their expert came back with an explanation. Darned if those little critters in the garden tried to eat through the rinds as they were growing to get through to the meat. They weren’t happy enough just taking enough out of a tomato and leaving it in ruin, they had to try and eat the squash. I printed out the message to take down to my husband and laughed all of the way. I showed it to the garden guru and we both had a long laugh. The squash were safe to eat and the problem solved. We’re looking for more takers and I’m freezing others. Thanksgiving will be taken over by the squash rather than pumpkins.

The interesting thing was that not one single cucumber was touched. Must be a story there somewhere. My husband threw all of his seeds into the garden this summer just to get rid of them figuring he wouldn’t be gardening next year. Alas his success has changed his mind. I wish I could warn the poor tomato seeds that may find their way to his garden next spring.