Squash is one of those gardener ass-pains that everyone knows about, like mint. Except of course I didn’t know. So when Steve, possibly my favorite person ever, gave me a Christmas bouquet fortified with home-grown organic marijuana and two kinds of squash seeds, I was psyched.
In the spring, I asked him what kinds of squash they were and he said: “The littler seeds make smaller squash and the bigger ones make bigger squash.” Alrighty. So I started many seeds. When an amount is not specified, I generally put a lot of whatever I’m putting in whatever I’m making. A lot of black pepper in the sauce, a lot of seeds in the dirt. What if some of them don’t start?
Well, they started. Especially the big ones. (The big green leaves climbing the fence in the photo above are squash.) They started and did not stop. Their thick, strong vines grow about a foot a day in every direction, shooting out giant flat leaves that soak up the sun and shade everything beneath them. They sprawl out and send out corkscrew tentacles that strangle everything in their path like some kind of cartoon devil plant.
At one point, I tried to redirect the vines that had made a B-line through our neighbor’s yard, but the squash found its way back and has bisected their weed-and-rubble collection. Of course, our only sizable fruit so far is on that side of the border.
Apparently these guys are good for pies. I don’t even like pumpkin pie.